Winchester Winter
by CanvasWonder
Summary: ( High School A/U ): Castiel Novak was alone before the Winchester boys arrived, and without them he's not sure what he would be.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter: 01

In a field, lying quietly amongst the frost-kissed blades of grass, was a boy. His coat spilled out around him like a tan river, the buttons glinting silver as they were touched with the faint rays of dawn. His eyelids fluttered restlessly as his palms brushed over the frosted ground at his sides, coming away damp when he raised them to let the soft morning breeze dry the melting crystals from his skin.

It was a ritualistic morning for Castiel Novak; nothing new, and nothing changed. His backpack cushioned his head as he laid beside the silent highway, and his eyes remained closed as he skimmed his fingers over the earth at his sides. It was the first frost of the year, he noted with some relief; winter had been slow coming this year with hardly an autumn to speak of, and he was beyond ready to trade ice-tea and sun poisoning for snow and hot-chocolate.

Taking a slow breath through his nose, Castiel relished the smell of damp Earth and the hint of burnt rubber that always spilled from the highway. Too soon though, the nearby rumble of a school bus alerted him that his Hellish day had finally begun and he slowly rose from his bed amongst the grass. His eyes opened, and they were like winter itself; cold, distant, and frigid in all the right ways.

Rolling to a halt on the shoulder, the stop sign on the bus beckoned the boy forward with flashing lights. Sighing to himself, Castiel slowly climbed the worn stairs of the vehicle. Soft morning conversations drifted through his ears as he made his way slowly to the back in search of the only seat on the bus meant to hold a single passenger; though the seats were hardly assigned, it was his choice every morning.

"Seats not open," A gruff voice said somewhere behind him, and Castiel glanced over at the sophomore who'd spoken with a raised eyebrow; a silent question.

"New kid's sitting there," The sophomore shrugged. "From what I heard, he was the first one on the bus this morning."

Castiel nodded a silent understanding and made his way to the final row regardless, the bus bouncing and swaying under his feet. True to the sophomore's words, there was a figure occupying the seat Castiel had been set on, but he couldn't make out any identifying traits. The strangers head was turned away, the rigid collar of his leather jacket pulled past his cheek bones; all Castiel could see was a head full of spiked hair and a sliver of a tanned forehead.

Refraining from sighing, Castiel took the double seat across the aisle from the stranger and set his backpack beside him to block any potential seat-mates.

"Did he take your seat?" A small voice questioned just as Castiel was reaching for his battered mp3 where it was resting in his coat pocket. He looked up to see a young boy – most certainly a freshman – peering at him from over the seat-back before him. His dark hair was sticking out in a messily-adorable way that would have any girl swooning, and his hazel eyes held a certain light of sincerity that Castiel was unfamiliar with.

Castiel nodded in answer to the question.

"Sorry about that… We're new in town," The boy explained. "He didn't think anyone would be sitting there."

Castiel shrugged, a silent way of dismissing the matter, and reached for his mp3. Retrieving the small device from its place in his coat pocket, he set to the task of untangling the headphones wrapped around the device. The boy before him watched him for a brief moment before he slid back down in his seat without any other words.

The incident was quickly forgotten as Castiel blocked the noise around him with the soothing sound of _Mumford & Sons._ Letting his head fall back on the seat, he closed his eyes and drowned in the mixture of instruments and vocals, mouthing the words silently as they passed through the headphones and into his ears.

He was just drifting into a light sleep, the movement of his lips slowing to an occasional twitch, when the bus hit a particularly violent bump that sent him up a few feet. There was a muffled curse at his side as the bus turned sharply – most likely avoiding another bump of the same magnitude – and the freshman who had spoken to him a few moments before was thrown out of his seat in a mess of limbs and wide-eyes.

Castiel shot out a hand, reflexively grabbing the boy before he could tumble into the back door of the bus. Before he could think to help the boy up, someone had knocked his arm away and hauled the freshman off the floor. It happened so fast that Castiel's sleepy mind took a moment to register that it was the boy who had taken his seat, standing with his back to Castiel in the aisle and holding the freshman upright.

"You okay, Sammy?" Castiel shuddered at the stranger's voice, the sound pulling strings in his gut that had him digging his nails punishingly into his palms. He watched as the freshman, Sammy, batted the larger man's hands away irritably.

"I'm fine," He grumbled, looking over the larger boys shoulder at Castiel. "He caught me before I could hit my head on anything,"

Castiel tensed as the older boy slowly turned, revealing a squared jaw and cheek bones to make a movie star swoon. The stranger was surprisingly still despite the rocking motions of the bus, his light green eyes smoldering with a cocktail of emotions that Castiel couldn't decipher as they stared at each other.

"You helped my brother?" He questioned, that gruff voice tying knots low in Castiel's stomach. He nodded weakly, fingering the inside lining of his coat as his nerves got the better of him. The stranger nodded thoughtfully, staring at Castiel for another span of time before slowly extending a hand.

"I'm Dean," He greeted, and Castiel shook his hand shyly. Dean's palm wasn't smooth as Castiel had expected; it was rough with calluses in some places, smooth with scars in others. "You are?"

Castiel stalled, his mouth dry as he fought to force sound up his throat and past his lips. Dean waited patiently, his eyes never leaving Castiel's face.

"C-Castiel," The boy finally managed to choke out, blushing at his stuttered start.

"Well, Castiel, thanks for helping Sam out," Dean nodded towards his brother, who was sitting on the edge of the seat in front of Castiel's and examining a small scrape on the heel of his hand. "Are the bus rides always this violent?"

Castiel shrugged, focusing of the patch of red on Sam's hand instead of the intense gaze of the stranger standing in the aisle beside his seat. The bus turned sharply once more, Dean's footing failing him as he tumbled back into the single-seater with a grunt of surprise. "That answers that," He grumbled.

A small smile hinted at the corner of Castiel's mouth before he quickly killed it, rooting around in his backpack and retrieving the small first-aid kit his mother insisted he keep there. Silently, he held the small white box out towards Sam. The boy smiled at the offer, taking the box with a mummer of thanks as he pried it open and went to work on his bleeding hand.

Dean stared at Castiel, his expression shocked as the darker haired teenager tucked his mp3 back in his pocket and zipped his backpack closed in silence; it wasn't often that total strangers helped Dean and Sam out of the kindness of their heart.

Sam, oblivious to his brother's confusion, gently smoothed an anti-septic cream over the cut and peeled a band aid out of its wrapper. He placed it over the cut with the confident hands of someone who had dealt with plenty of wounds in his life, tucking the wrapper in his pocket so he could trash it later. He offered the first-aid kit to Castiel once more, and the older boy shook his head, silently telling Sam to keep it.

Around them the bus had slowly filled, leaving only two seats open; the one beside Castiel, and the one beside Sam. Castiel didn't worry about it until the bus rolled to a stop outside a familiar house, at which point he tensed.

Michael and Lucifer Novak hurried on to the busy bus, moving quickly towards the back with predatory looks. Castiel ducked his head, as if it could hide him from his brothers, and dug his nails deep into the skin of his palms. Usually the Novak brother's stayed away from one and other; Castiel took his single seat and his brothers sat somewhere towards the front. Today, thanks to Sam and Dean, he would be forced to sit right next to one of them.

"Move over," Castiel cringed as Michael knocked his bag out of the way, sliding into the seat and crowding Castiel against the window. His brother barely acknowledged his presence, his eyes focused on the front of the bus and his ears plugged with headphones.

This was the way it had been for as long as Castiel could remember. As the youngest of five children, he had only been a toddler when his parents divorced. From the stories he had heard though, the Novak divorce had been a brutal and messy affair; the whole community had taken sides in the battle. When it was all said and done though, the oldest Novak boys chose to move across town with their father and the three younger children were left with their mother.

Stealing a look at Michael's stony face, Castiel had to wonder what their father had done to make his brother's so hard. He wanted nothing more than to establish a relationship with Michael and Lucifer both, but neither boy even acknowledged his existence except on rare occasions.

In the seat ahead of him, Lucifer was trying to make conversation with Sam. The younger boy was staring out the window, shrugging or nodding every once and awhile but otherwise uninterested. Castiel could only be relieved- though he wanted a relationship with his brother's, both of them were bad influences. Both of them had failed the eighth grade on two occasions, which is why they were still in their senior year at the age of twenty and twenty one. For Lucifer, this was the last chance; Michael had one more year.

Pressing his forehead to the cool glass of the window, Castiel pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind and watched the barren fields roll by in silence.

Sometime later, they arrived at the school and everyone hurried to exit the bus. Michael lurched to his feet like someone had lit a fire under his seat and shoved his way to the front, hopping off the bus with Lucifer trailing behind him. Castiel ignored the faint twinge of pain – how could someone he hardly knew hurt his feelings? – and slowly stood, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and following the crowd off the bus and into the building.

"Hey, wait- Castiel," He blinked, hating the shiver that traveled pleasantly down his spine at the sound of his name being called in such a delicious voice. He turned just in time to see Dean moving towards him in the swarm of students, grimacing as he received several elbows to the ribs.

Castiel waited patiently for the boy to reach him, silently looking him over as he did so. Dean was taller than most of the boys he was passing, standing a few inches taller than Castiel himself. His leather jacket was zipped to protect him from the cold, and Castiel barely caught a glimpse of a leather cord around the boys neck. He had a simple black Jansport bag slung over his shoulder and his eyebrows were furrowed as he stared at a crumpled sheet of paper in his hands, finally coming to a stop just before Castiel.

"I was wondering what grade you were in," Dean started, looking up from the paper. "Because I could really use some help finding these classes."

"I'm a junior," Castiel stated quietly, his voice coming easier than it had on the bus.

"Dammit," Dean sighed, raking a hand through his already mused hair. "Can you recommend a senior guide?"

Castiel hesitated before answering.

"I… I know most of the senior classes." He admitted, burying his hands in the pockets of his coat. "I could probably show you,"

"Really?" Dean's eyes flashed as he smiled.

"Sure," Castiel shrugged, fingering the cord of his headphones in his pocket. He knew this was a bad idea- opening his mouth was a bad idea in itself, but offering a tour the very attractive new boy was an even worse one. Word of this would somehow get around to his mother and he would be in for a mess of trouble, but Dean's smile seemed to make the future punishment worth it.

"Awesome," Dean nodded, handing the paper to Castiel. It was a schedule, the younger boy realized. "Well then… Lead the way."


	2. Chapter 2

**WARNING**:_ There's some violence in this chapter_.

Chapter: 02

Castiel met Dean at the end of each of his classes, leading him to the next room on his schedule in silence. Dean tried to strike up conversation – complaining about his work, and asking Castiel's opinion on several of the girl's they passed in the hall – but the younger boy remained eerily silent. By the time he met Castiel between his fourth and fifth period, Dean had learned to walk in silent synchronization with his guide.

It wasn't that Castiel didn't want to speak to Dean- he just couldn't. The younger boy wanted to speak to his older companion so bad it physically ached, but his mind had simply made it impossible; he had sat through every class of the day thinking of ways his mother could punish him if she discovered that Castiel had taken an interest in the new kids. He mused over all of the rumors that people would spread about Dean, or even little Sam for that matter, if they saw the boys talking to Castiel. Every worst case scenario passed through Castiel's head that morning and he silently promised himself he wouldn't let such things happen.

Glancing at Dean's schedule, Castiel bit back a groan; the boys shared the same lunch period, which only made things harder. Silently tucking the crumpled paper back in his coat pocket, Castiel motioned Dean to follow as the two headed towards the cafeteria.

The room was bustling with activity when the boys arrived, people going about their usual lunch time business as Castiel made his way to his usual table in the very back. Dean said a quick goodbye that Castiel acknowledged with a nod as he dropped his backpack on to the top of one of the rounded tables. The area around him was deserted, excepting a few strangers in search of a quiet study space. When they noticed Castiel, they quickly retreated. The junior sighed, retrieving his bag lunch from his backpack, and plopped warily down in his chair.

He wasn't always the social pariah- he used to be quite popular, but those days were long gone.

Sighing quietly to himself, he pulled an apple out of his lunch and took a bite as he retrieved his history book and let it fall open to a random page. Though he wasn't assigned any pages in the book for the night, he had always been fascinated with history; reading this particular text book was a popular pass time for Castiel.

"Hey, Cas!" Castiel jumped, slicing his finger on the edge of a page as he looked up in time to see Sam plopping down in a seat across from him. His stomach flipped nervously as a few people in the surrounding area turned to stare curiously at Sam.

"Cas?" He questioned quietly, fighting the urge to scream at Sam to get up. He wanted the boy's company, but he didn't want Sam to suffer for it.

"Castiel is a mouthful," Sam shrugged, popping a grape in his mouth. "Do you mind if I call you Cas?"

"No, no… Cas is fine," Castiel shrugged, his heart tightening a bit. He'd never been given a nickname from anyone, let alone a boy he'd only just met this morning. Sam and Dean were making it incredibly hard to maintain his quiet, self-loathing reputation.

"Cool," Sam grinned.

"Harassing my friends, Sammy?" Castiel jumped, spinning in his chair with a surprised sound to find Dean standing behind him. The senior grinned down at him, winking, and took the seat directly to his right. Castiel felt his blush all the way down to his belly button.

"It's Sam," Sam huffed, glaring at his older brother. "And I'm not harassing him."

"He's harassing you, isn't he?" Dean smirked, looking to Castiel for an answer. The teenager shook his head, taking another slow bite of his apple and hoping his blush would die quickly.

Dean turned back to Sam, and the two exchanged a playful dialogue of insults ending in "Jerk" on Sam's part, and "Bitch" on Dean's. Castiel returned to his reading, fighting a smile, and hoped that he could learn to ignore the very interesting siblings sitting with him.

He had no such luck.

Dean and Sam both wolfed down their meals as if it was a race, finishing their entire plates before Castiel had even disposed of his apple. The two conversed briefly about how their first day was going, and from the sound of it Sam was enjoying himself far more than Dean. Whereas the younger sibling could name several new friends and a favorite teacher, the older could only name Castiel.

"I've seen a few girls staring at you," Sam told his brother. "I'm sure you'll get a girlfriend in no time."

"C'mon, Sam," Dean scoffed. "You know I don't get girlfriends."

Castiel glanced at Dean with a confused expression, unsure how truthful that statement was. With someone with Dean's physique and his charming personality, it seemed almost impossible for him to not have girlfriends.

"It wouldn't kill you to have something more than a one night stand," Sam sighed, tearing his napkin into precise little pieces. "I mean, seriously- if you don't bring someone home eventually, Dad's going to think you're gay."

Castiel flinched at the word, his nails digging into the skin of his apple. Dean glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow, and Castiel simply shook his head.

That one word had uprooted every aspect of his life and planted them in an entirely different garden. He had gone from popular to pariah in a matter of seconds, lost the respect of his family, and ruined any chances at a future… All because he wasn't born right; he was born from the fires of Hell, the local church said; a creature of sin.

Castiel Novak was gay, and everyone in the community made a point to remind him of how wrong it was.

"You okay, Cas?" Castiel barely heard Sam's voice over the roar of blood in his ears, but he nodded weakly anyways and took another bite of his apple despite the churning in his stomach.

"Cas?" Dean questioned, glancing between his brother and the pale teenager beside him.

"Castiel is a mouthful," Both boys chorused. Dean chuckled, nodding, and Castiel didn't notice the concerned stare that Dean was giving him. He didn't even notice how pale he'd gone or the slight tremble in his hands as he glanced around the cafeteria.

Dean's hand feel gently on Castiel's shoulder and the younger boy jumped, turning to him with a startled expression.

"You alright?" He repeated his brother's question, his frown deep. There was a long span of silence in which the two stared at each other, but in the end Castiel never answered Dean's question, and Dean didn't bother to ask it again.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

After that first day, Castiel no longer had to show Dean where his classes were. However, in the month since the senior's arrival, he had insisted on escorting Castiel to class. On occasion Sam would tag along, talking animatedly about some kind of assignment he was working on, and Dean would just smile and nod along while Castiel asked questions.

Castiel had learned a lot about the Winchester boys since they arrived- Dean was eighteen going on nineteen, and Sam was four years younger. They moved a lot, according to Sam, and they had come here from a brief time spent living in Tennessee. Dean loved old cars, women, and classic rock; Sam was more successful with books and country music.

The two Winchester boys were total opposites, and they often fought, but Dean was fiercely protective of Sam. There'd been more than one occasion where someone caught bullying Sam had been sent home in tears, Dean watching them leave with a smug expression but denying his involvement when asked.

Castiel quite enjoyed the boys, to be honest, and as time went on he slowly slipped out of his shell. After two weeks without any news reaching his mother, or any rumors reaching the Winchester's ears, he started to grow more comfortable with the situation. Now, a month into things, he had truly fallen into the role of Cas; the Winchester boys' closest friend.

As far as Dean was concerned though, Castiel wasn't sure what to think. Sam had made several comments about the two of them being inseparable, and in many ways he was right; it wasn't often that Castiel felt alone at school anymore. Dean was always nearby, grinning at Castiel from the lunch line or asking Castiel to join him in his quest to bed as many women as he could before the semester ended. They were often late for class, unaware of time when they wandered the hallways in comfortable silence, and Dean was constantly attempting to make Castiel smile.

Castiel's demented mind tried to trick him into believing that Dean was flirting with him, but the hoards of women that constantly blushed when Dean passed told him otherwise.

This particular day in the middle of November began just like the rest. Sam was lying quietly in the grass, studying for a Geometry exam, while Dean and Castiel sat a few feet away in respectable quiet. About a week ago, the Winchester's had been sitting at his bus stop when Castiel arrived; he didn't ask questions, because it was a surprisingly pleasant surprise.

Dean's arm brushed Castiel's as he stared out at the highway, his jacket zipped all the way to his chin, and Castiel noticed he was shivering.

"It's not that cold," Castiel teased, receiving a fiery green glare in response.

"I could be in my car right now," Dean grumbled, struggling to pull the collar of his jacket over his ears. "Blasting the heater… Listening to Metallica… Instead I'm stuck waiting for the stupid bus…"

"Why didn't you take the Impala? I thought the repairs were complete," Castiel questioned, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin there. Dean shrugged, a particularly violent shiver rippling through his body as he glanced at Castiel out of the corner of his eye.

"Sam likes to walk in the mornings," He explained quietly. "And I don't mind coming out here,"

Castiel watched Dean's face carefully as the older boy looked around them. Castiel's house sat two miles behind them, at the end of a gravel drive-way. Sam had often asked what his house was like since the trees surrounding the place made it impossible to see, and Castiel had always shrugged and said 'nothing special'. Because it wasn't anything special- if anything, it was big and empty.

Castiel actually preferred this spot, sitting at the end of the driveway. Very few cars drove by on the highway before them, and across the blacktop there was a small pasture of horses that Castiel used to follow along the fence line when he was small. The grass was soft, and during the spring wildflowers would pop up all over the place. It was calm, it was beautiful, and it was something no one could take away from him.

Dean seemed to see the same in the area, his expression soft as he watched a black foal stumble along behind its mother. The few rays of dawn that were breaking through the black-clouds over their heads seemed to be drawn to Dean's eyes, highlighting the flecks of gold hidden amongst the green.

"It's peaceful," Dean seemed to voice Castiel's thoughts, turning and smiling timidly at the younger boy. Castiel looked away with a faint blush, realizing he'd been staring.

The two fell silent again, and Castiel jumped as a sudden flake of snow landed on the tip of his nose. He went cross eyed staring at the small crystals before Dean's thumb suddenly brushed over his nose and wiped it away. His heart leapt into his throat and he made a small sound, trying to pass it off as anger as he glared at Dean. Dean flashed him a grin before climbing to his feet and walking over to his younger brother.

"Sammy," He toed his brother in the ribs lightly. "It's snowing, dude- think we should head home,"

"But, Dean, my test…" Sam whined, looking pleadingly up at his brother. Dean sighed, shaking his head, and grabbed the text book from Sam's hands and dropped it in his younger brother's bag before zipping the bag closed.

"You know what Dad said," He murmured, slinging Sam's bag over his shoulder with his own. Castiel knew Dean hated this; he'd seen Dean look at Sam with the 'dad said' expression several times in the past few weeks. He didn't know what it meant, and he didn't ask because the mere mention of their father seemed to make Dean and Sam uncomfortable.

Sam huffed out a disappointed breath and climbed to his feet, allowing Dean to carry his backpack for him. "See you later, Cas," He smiled weakly as he passed, walking silently along the side of the highway. Castiel watched, frowning, and Dean waited until Sam was out of hearing range to turn back to Castiel.

"We may not be in school for a few days," He sighed, raking his free hand through his hair. "You think you could do me a favor?"

"Collect all of Sam's work, and give any curious girls your number," Castiel chuckled a little, nodding; Dean had asked him this favor two weeks ago, too.

"You're an angel, Cas," Dean smiled weakly. "But don't bother handing out my number- just make sure you text me, alright? I mean, if a girl is interested- text me about it,"

Castiel smiled, watching as Dean stumbled over the words.

"Sure thing," He agreed, burying his hands in the pockets of his coat as a gust of wind ruffled his hair. Dean quickly turned – he wasn't good at goodbyes – and headed off down the road after Sam.

Castiel watched the brothers until they disappeared from his sight, wrapping his arms around himself and waiting in silence for the bus. It wasn't until quite some time later that the vehicle rolled to a stop, and Castiel hurried inside; snow had begun to fall steadily outside, and he was practically frozen solid the entire bus ride. He blew on his hands, jiggled his feet; anything to warm himself.

The ride seemed extremely long, and the time dragged on. Castiel realized that he had grown accustomed to Dean's presence in the seat beside him, and silently cursed himself; he had only known the boy a month, and he was obviously a player- so why was he allowing himself to fall for him?

Caught up in thoughts of Dean, Castiel was distracted for the rest of the ride.

When the bus finally stopped at the school, Castiel waited patiently for everyone to get off and thought of the day before him; a test in first period, and a presentation in third. He thought of sitting alone at lunch once more, and of walking the halls without Dean's protective presence and Sam's rambling.

It was going to be a long day, he decided.

"Hey, Castiel!" The teenager looked around, frowning as he stepped off the bus. Who would be calling his name with Sam and Dean gone for the day?

Lucifer came striding forward, Michael following behind him. Castiel chocked down his shock – his brother's were actually talking to him! – and raised an eyebrow as Lucifer stopped in front of him.

"We were wondering if we could talk to you alone," He explained with a smile, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans as Michael watched Castiel with a dead expression.

"What about?" Castiel asked quietly, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Just some family stuff," Lucifer shrugged. "Come on," He motioned Castiel to follow him as he started walking towards the small wooded area beside the school. Castiel hesitated, glancing back towards the school building.

"Come on, Castiel," Michael spoke, his voice deep and somewhat soothing. Castiel bit his lip, nodding after another brief moment of consideration, and walked silently beside Michael as they made their way into the woods. They walked for awhile until they reached a small creek that Castiel could remember playing in as a child, Gabriel and Anna holding his hands as he tried to balance on the rocks, the summer sun burning his face.

He frowned, shivering. He hadn't thought of Gabriel and Anna in awhile.

Michael stopped and Castiel followed his older brother's example, looking curiously at Lucifer where he was propped against a nearby tree.

"Well, Castiel, it seems we have a bit of a problem." Lucifer sighed, pushing off the tree and taking a few steps closer. "You're straying from the flock again, little black sheep."

Castiel's heart beat picked up, realizing why he'd been brought out this far as Lucifer took another step closer, and he stumbled backwards. Tripping over an unseen root, the youngest Novak tumbled back and landed heavily on the snow damp ground. Michael stood silently to the side, watching on with cool eyes as Lucifer hauled Castiel up by the front of his shirt.

"What's going on with the Winchester boy, Castiel?" Lucifer demanded, his face inches from Castiel's. The younger boy was shaking; he wasn't good with confrontation, or violence. Being the center of both, he was absolutely terrified.

"N-Nothing," Castiel stuttered, fighting tears. "W-We're just… Just f-friends,"

"Need I remind you what happened last time you lied about your boyfriend?" Lucifer growled, his hand tightening in Castiel's shirt as he pushed the smaller boy into the nearest tree. The bark scratched against the exposed back of Castiel's neck, and his hair fell in his face as he struggled to breathe correctly.

"I swear!" He pleaded, panic building as the memory of a bloody boy flashed behind his eyelids. "D-Dean is just my friend,"

"What about the other one?" Lucifer growled. "Sam?"

"No!" Castiel cried. He may be a born sinner, but there were certain things not even the devil himself would do; touching Sam, or even thinking of him in that way was one of them. Sam had a pure heart, and that was something that simply shouldn't be tampered with. Not to mention, Sam was almost three years younger than him.

"For some reason, I really don't believe you." Lucifer growled, pressing harder against Castiel's chest. The younger boy hissed in pain, struggling to expand his lungs between the tree and his brother's hand. "You see, Michael's been keeping an eye on the two of you; apparently, Dean's taken an awful lot of interest in you… Been asking some weird questions,"

Castiel struggled weakly, kicking out his legs, and Lucifer jerked him off the tree, throwing him to the ground once more. Castiel scrambled back, watching his oldest brother with frightened blue eyes. He backed up to the creek's edge, his hands dipping into the icy water as he came to a stop. Lucifer continued to advance slowly, his grin dark.

"He wanted to know why poor little Cassie didn't have any friends, and why he was so quiet," Lucifer sneered, bending to grab Castiel's ankle. The younger boy rolled over on to his stomach, uncaring of the water's frigid temperature as he crawled forward and tried to make it to his feet. Lucifer got a quick hold on his calf, jerking him down. Castiel gasped as he landed face-first in the creek, inhaling the icy water and rolling back on to his back as he spluttered, his teeth clicking. The whole time, Lucifer continued his rant.

"About a week ago someone finally told him you were a demon- sent straight from hell, meant to tempt him. He didn't get it at first, but when he finally figured out that Michael and I were your big brother's, we told him the whole story." Lucifer hauled Castiel out of the water by his hair, and the younger boy grabbed at his brother's wrist with a weak cry of pain.

"We told him all about your little stunt with Balthazar, and what happened to him when it was over," Lucifer hissed, allowing Castiel to get his feet under himself as he stood shivering, his brother still gripping his hair. "We told him how ran away like a scared little girl when everyone found out- how poor Balthazar was so ashamed that he killed himself,"

"Stop," Castiel pleaded, a sob hitching his chest.

"I think you need to be reminded just how dangerous you are to this boy, Castiel," Lucifer growled, letting go of Castiel's hair. The younger boy sagged, his weak knees unable to hold him as Balthazar's face danced in his mind.

_His Balthazar, lying in a bloody puddle…_

"You shouldn't have even been born, Castiel!" Lucifer growled, landing a hard kick to Castiel's ribs. The boy cried out softly, curling in on himself as quickly as he could. The next kick caught him in the jaw, the toe of his brother's boot cutting the skin.

_A gun, still in his hand…_

"Do you hear me, you pathetic piece of shit?" Lucifer hauled Castiel up, and the boy weakly tried to cover his face. His mind was doing more damage to him than Lucifer's actions ever could, but that didn't mean Lucifer wasn't hurting him.

_Balthazar… Wake up…_

The solid thump of fist hitting skin was all Castiel could comprehend, hearing nothing but his own thoughts over the roaring in his ears. He felt the snow damp Earth pressed against his cheek as he laid still, taking the abuse with no retaliation.

_Please… You can't be gone…_

"Lucifer, that's enough." Michael's voice passed the noise in his ears, and the hits came to a sudden stop. Castiel finally opened his eyes – or tried. His left was swollen closed.

_Balthazar… Please!_

Michael slowly crouched in front of Castiel, his expression passive. "I trust you've learned your lesson," He whispered calmly, smoothing Castiel's hair away from his eyes and gingerly petting his hair for a moment before he climbed to his feet and disappeared.

_You can't leave me here… Don't leave me here!_

Castiel laid entirely still, hot tears squeezing past his defenses as he pressed his swollen eye to the cool comfort of the snow.

_I don't want to be alone._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter: 03

Castiel didn't return home for two days.

When he finally stumbled in the front door Friday night, bleeding and damp, he was close to faint. He hadn't been able to stand until late this afternoon, careful not to apply too much pressure to his left leg as he walked; he wasn't sure how he'd done it, or when Lucifer might have done it, but his ankle was swollen to twice its usual size.

He didn't bother with cleaning himself up- he simply crawled into bed and slept for another day. When he awoke early Sunday morning, he took a long shower before bandaging what he could and popping a few pain pills for the rest. His sinuses were running like the river Nile and his head throbbed, but he pushed through it and went about stripping his now muddy sheets from the bed.

Once he was done with that task, he forced himself to choke down a few crackers and a glass of water. His mother was nowhere to be seen- probably gone on one of her unannounced trips – but Castiel could care less. Honestly, the house had a much nicer atmosphere when he was alone in it. Alone, he didn't have to worry about harsh words, sudden whacks with a hard-cover King James edition, or soft Latin anti-possession chants at the dinner table.

Limping his way back up the stairs with the cracker box and a bottle of water, he holed himself up in his bedroom. Sitting on the naked mattress while his sheets were in the washing machine, he contented himself with watching re-runs of _That 70's Show_. His eyes occasionally flickered over to his phone where it was lying on the floor, charging; the place he'd left it on Wednesday morning before heading out to meet the Winchester's.

He was going to heed his brothers' warnings – his aching body told him that much – but he found himself longing to hear Dean's voice despite his decision, to see the older boy grinning at him from across the cafeteria…Then he would remember that Dean knew everything about Balthazar, and that desire would fade for a few minutes.

When the pain medication wore off, Castiel was forced to make his way back downstairs and refill his water bottle so he could take some more. His movements were shaky and slow, his poor body begging him to take it easy as he wrestled the sheets back on to his bed and collapsed on to the still-warm material. He buried his face in the pillow, ignoring the painful ache in his bruised ribs, and breathed through his mouth to give his stuffed nose a break.

He was sick, he knew, but he couldn't afford to miss school tomorrow. He had missed an important test, and plenty of history notes. Most importantly, he had to pick up Sam's- no, no he didn't… He couldn't come in contact with the Winchester's ever again. Though the fact almost physically hurt, he couldn't deny it was true.

Sam and Dean were the first people Castiel had come in contact with since Anna and Gabriel; the only people he had tried to trust since his older siblings left, actually. Of course he didn't deserve any of these people in his life – he was a creature of sin – but part of him still argued that it was unfair that he lose all of them. Couldn't he at least have one person in his life who accepted him?

Castiel groaned into his pillow, slowly rolling over on to his back once more, and pulled the covers over his head.

The next thing Castiel was aware of was the sound of his alarm, waking him to prepare for school. Momentarily forgetting his predicament, he sat up quickly to silence the insistent beeping to his right. His ribs protested the quick movement, his head spinning, and he fell back with a sharp exhale of breath. Giving himself a few moments to recover, he sat up again – slowly this time – and silenced the alarm with a slap of his hand.

Running quickly through the shower, Castiel choked down a few painkillers and the highest possible dosage of cold medicine. Slipping on a pair of jeans and a dark blue sweater, Castiel pulled a beanie on over his still damp hair and wound his favorite black scarf over his lower face to hide the swollen left side of his jaw. A few dabs of make up from his mother's drawer covered the black eye, and he knew everything else would be no problem to hide.

Not bothering with packing a lunch, Castiel simply grabbed some money from his sock-drawer and shoved it in his pocket. His backpack, having laid in the snow with him for those painful two days, was finally dry. After pausing a moment to slip his tan coat on to his shoulders and button it, Castiel slung the bag over his shoulder and paused with his hand on the door knob.

Despite all his clothes, he was still cold.

Sighing into the fabric of his scarf, he pushed open the door and proceeded to make his hike down the drive way. His feet crunched in the light snow, his teeth chattering noisily between sniffled and coughs as he pulled his beanie down further over his head. The last thing he needed was for his cold to turn into pneumonia thanks to his wet hair.

Reaching the end of the drive way, Castiel let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding to see not a single Winchester in sight. Adjusting his scarf so that it covered his nose, he buried his cold hands into his pockets and stared absently at the empty field across the street; all the horses were hidden away in this kind of weather, and all there was to see was a snowy pasture.

"Cas!" Every muscle in his body tensed, his nails digging into his palms as he slowly turned at the sound of his nickname, watching as Sam came crunching towards him the snow. Dean strayed a few feet behind, his expression distracted.

"Hey, Cas," Sam smiled, pushing floppy brown hair out his eyes with mitten-clad fingers. Castiel smiled despite himself, the fabric of the scarf catching on his dry lips.

"Hi Sam," He answered through the scarf, unable to bring himself to crush the boys happy attitude. How was he going to manage cutting all ties with them? He knew doing it over gradual time would be his best bet, but something told him that if he didn't do it fast, he wouldn't do it at all.

Dean finally caught up to Sam, his expression glum as he nodded to Cas in greeting and pulled the collar of his coat higher around his face.

"Do you have my work?" Sam questioned eagerly, taking Castiel's attention away from Dean.

"No," Castiel admitted, clearing his throat against the urge to cough. Sam visibly deflated, burying his hands in his pockets.

"That's alright," He muttered quietly, and Castiel quickly came up with his excuse.

"I got sick," He explained to the younger boy. "So I wasn't at school- I'm on the back end of it now, though."

"Oh, well, that sucks," Sam frowned, looking up at Castiel. "I'm glad you're feeling better though."

"Me too," Castiel lied. "How was your trip?"

"Fine," Sam shrugged, glancing towards Dean. "Dean's been grumpy, though."

"If you don't shut up, I'll show you just how grumpy I am." Dean snapped, and Castiel flinched. Sam glared at his brother, kicking a clump of snow in his direction, and moved a few feet away, putting Castiel between the two of them.

Shifting awkwardly to keep the weight off his bad ankle, Castiel tilted his head down against the small snow flurries and shivered in his coat. The three boys waited in silence until the bus arrived some time later, and they scrambled to get on. Castiel was last, cringing as he tried to get up the steps in a normal manor; trying not to favor his bad leg, or limp… Trying to hold up the charade that he was suffering from a cold, and nothing more.

Ignoring the bus drivers concerned stare, Castiel followed Dean and Sam to the back of the bus. Sam took the single-seater and Castiel slid into the double across the aisle. Dean plopped down beside him, his backpack in his lap. It had been their seating arrangement since the Winchester's arrived, but today it made Castiel particularly uncomfortable.

Shivering, Castiel reached up and tugged the beanie down further over his head.

"You didn't text me." Dean finally broke the silence, glancing at Castiel out of the corner of his eye. Castiel stared at him, his mouth opening and closing in quiet shock.

"I wasn't at school… There weren't any girls interested," He answered quietly, watching the world pass by beyond the window.

"Cas…" Dean sighed, shaking his head as Castiel turned to study him. "I was… I was asking _you_ to text me- I didn't care about the girls."

"No." Castiel snapped before he could stop himself and Dean blinked, taken aback by the sudden hostility. Little did he know about the voices hissing inside Castiel's head, Lucifer's cruel words roaring through his brain as he glared at Dean.

"No, what?" He asked.

"No. Just because you know I'm…" He looked around, making sure no one was listening before he leaned closer. "Just because you know I'm _gay_ doesn't mean you can use me for some kind of demented prank."

"It wasn't- Cas, I'm not messing with you," Dean scoffed. "And I didn't know you were gay, but I'm glad I do now; at least I've got a chance."

"What are you talking about!" Castiel snapped. "Of course you know, everyone in town knows! Why do you think everyone stays away from me! I'm a monster, Dean!"

His rising voice attracted Sam's attention, but one quick glare from Dean had the younger Winchester turning in his seat. Turning his head ever so slightly, Dean glared at Castiel as well.

"You are not a monster." He growled.

"Yes I am." Castiel grumbled, turning away from Dean as he muttered the words he'd heard his mother repeat a thousand times in his presence. "I'm a creature born from the fires of Hell, meant to tempt young men to the path of sin."

"Cas," Dean sighed, grabbing the other boys chin in a gentle attempt to coax his face in the other direction. Castiel sucked in a pained breath as Dean's fingers closed over the swollen cut on his jaw, knocking Dean's hand away and grabbing a hold of the aching spot before he could think to do anything else. Dean tensed, his eyes widening ever so slightly.

"Cas, what was that?" Dean demanded as Castiel dropped his hand, looking silently out the window. God, why did Dean have to be so caring! And why did he have to like Castiel! He had actually admitted it, Castiel noted; he had seemed pleased that Castiel was gay, and that the two could possibly have a relationship.

"Castiel," Dean tried again, grabbing the end of Cas' scarf and pulling gently. The younger boy panicked, pressing himself hard against the window and shoving Dean away.

"Stop!" He demanded, his voice trembling. Though Dean could hear it in his voice, Castiel knew he couldn't tell Dean that he was scared; scared of what Dean would think if he knew how broken Castiel's body was, or if he knew what his brothers would do to him if he didn't do as they said.

"You're hurt." It wasn't a question, but Castiel nodded weakly anyways. Dean sighed, looking down at his lap for a moment before looking back up. His eyes on Castiel's face, Dean gently tugged on the end of the scarf again. Castiel didn't fight him this time, so Dean proceeded to tilt the younger boy's face back towards his, careful not to touch his jaw. With gentle, experienced hands he unwound the scarf from Castiel's face.

Castiel flinched every time the material rubbed the swollen flesh of his jaw, but otherwise sat still. His eyes locked on a small hole in the knee of Dean's jeans and stayed there. He knew he should move away, and stop Dean from being so gentle and caring; he should just slap his hands away and trade seats with Sam.

He knew what he should do, but he was couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Dammit, Cas..." Dean whispered, his jaw ticking in a way that Castiel had come to know as a silent display of anger. Dean's fingers brushed gently over the inflamed skin, careful not to hurt Castiel, and the younger boy quickly looked away from Dean's face and back to the hole in his jeans.

"Why do you even care?" Castiel whispered, and he noticed Dean's jaw clench at his slurred words. The muffle of the scarf had hidden the slur, but without it Dean could see just how much pain the wound was causing Castiel. "You know about... About Balthazar, and about what I did... Why do you still care, Dean?"

"You keep saying I know things that I don't." Dean frowned, his fingers still tracing over the cut in a motion Castiel quickly found comforting.

"You... You know," Castiel whispered weakly, his heart thudding in his chest. Had Lucifer lied just to make sure Castiel avoided Dean? Or was Dean the one lying? He didn't know who to trust, but he so desperately wanted to trust Dean.

"I don't," Dean corrected, slowly letting his hand fall away from Castiel's face. Castiel almost cried out at the loss, wishing he could pull Dean's hand back and press his cheek into the callused comfort. "Cas, you know I'd come to you and ask about anything I heard. You know that."

Castiel nodded weakly, staring at his scarf where it laid on the seat between them. His eyes watered, his breath hitching, and he silently told himself he wouldn't cry; this was as far as it would go. A few tears managed to slide by, though- tears of shame, and hate. Lucifer had beaten him bloody not because Dean had been asking about Castiel, but because he wanted to. He wanted to hurt Castiel, and to open old wounds.

"Cas," Dean's voice was surprisingly gentle, and Castiel didn't have to respond for Dean to know he was listening. "Whoever hurt you... Did they do it because you're gay?"

Castiel nodded.

"Is that the person who said I knew you were gay- and that I knew about that guy? Benjamin?"

"Balthazar." Castiel corrected, picking at the button on his coat as he nodded once more.

"Do I happen to know the person who did it?" Castiel quickly realized what Dean was getting at; he wanted to find out who'd hurt Castiel, and make an example out them like he did to those who bullied Sam.

"No," Castiel lied, knowing Lucifer had plenty of classes with Dean. Dean nodded, quiet for a moment before he picked up Castiel's scarf and tied it around his own neck. Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but Dean cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Do you wear this to school a lot?" Dean questioned, tying the scarf loosely around his neck and not bothering to tuck the tails into his jacket. Castiel had to admit that the black fabric looked nice around Dean's neck; the black fabric accented the smooth curve of his neck and made his eyes seem surprisingly more green.

"Yes… Every time it snows. Why?" Castiel asked, searching Dean's face curiously.

"Just go along with what I do," Dean told him. "And my plan should work out just fine."

"Your plan?" Castiel blinked, and before he could ask anything else Dean had slipped an arm around his waist and hauled him into his lap. Castiel went rigid as Dean situated the smaller man's body against his, his hands resting against Castiel's rapidly fluttering stomach and his chin falling on to Castiel's shoulder.

"My plan," Hot breath brushed Castiel's ear and he blushed from his scalp all the way to his belly button, his hands resting instinctually over Dean's where they were smoothing out the crinkles in his coat.

"Th-This is no… Not a plan," Castiel stuttered, finding it difficult to remember the process of breathing. "This… This is in-inappropriate."

Dean simply chuckled, leaning back in the seat and moving Castiel to recline against him. The younger boy was frozen solid, his muscles tight despite how comfortable he really was. Dean's body was warm and firm underneath his, promising comfort and protection, and the longer they sat this way Castiel's muscles slowly started to unwind until he was leaning back into the embrace.

"It's a good plan," Dean argued once Castiel had relaxed, the younger boys eyes falling closed as Dean continued to rub a series of small circles over his stomach. "I know who hit you, and I get to have you in my lap. There's really now down side to this at all,"

"What?" Castiel's eyes flew open as he turned his head to look at Dean where the older boy's chin was still resting on his shoulder. "How do you know who did it?"

"It's easy," Dean shrugged, his eyes locked with Castiel's. "There are two boys who got on the bus about ten minutes ago- they keep looking back here, directly at us. When I winked at the taller one, he glared at _you_. My bet is that he's the muscle, and the other one is the brains."

Castiel swallowed hard, tensing once more in Dean's arms as he fought the urge to turn around. He had to admit that Dean's plan was well thought out; what better way to bring out the attackers than to provoke them? Dean noticed his suddenly tense muscles and frowned.

"Calm down," He ordered gently, and Castiel did his best to obey. "What are their names?"

"Lucifer is the tall one… Michael is his younger brother," Castiel answered quietly, looking down at his scarf where it was tied around Dean's neck.

"Cas, keep looking into my eyes," Dean directed him quietly, and the younger boy reluctantly obeyed. "They thought something was going on between us, right? That's why they waited until I was gone to make a move on you,"

Castiel nodded, counting the golden flecks in Dean's eyes to distract himself from the situation.

"And they told you I knew you were gay, and that I knew something about Balthazar?" Dean continued, his arms tightening around Castiel as the bus ran over a bump and their foreheads knocked together. Castiel hadn't realized how close the two were until then.

"Yes," He nodded, his eyes closing as his forehead remained pressed to Dean's.

"Eyes open, Cas." Dean pressed gently against his stomach and Castiel reluctantly did as he was told while Dean continued. "I didn't know about any of this until you mentioned it, and as far as Lucifer and Michael's suspicions go… That was probably my fault. I guess I wasn't as secretive as I thought when I tried to sneak looks at your ass,"

"Dean!" Castiel hissed, leaning away from the now grinning older boy and slapping him hard on the chest.

"What, it's not my fault," Dean laughed. "I'm a teenage dude; a nice ass cannot be ignored,"

"I'm glad my ass pleases you," Castiel glared, turning to look out the window despite Dean's attempts to get him to turn around again. "Now that you're plan is complete, I'd appreciate it if you'd release me."

"My plan isn't complete," Dean admitted. Castiel turned his head a fraction, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

"I wanted to ask you if we could do this," Dean motioned to their position. "More often- possibly, every day?"

"I'm not going to sit in your lap, Dean." Castiel rolled his eyes, wondering how he even liked Dean as a friend, let alone more.

"Not what I meant," Dean rolled his eyes, forcibly turning Castiel face him. The younger man grit his teeth against the throbbing protest of his ribs, but looked Dean in the eyes.

"What did you mean?" He asked, examining Dean's green and gold eyes carefully. The older man straightened the scarf around his neck, smiling faintly.

"I'd like to confirm the rumors that there is something going on between us," He announced, his voice close to a whisper to avoid possible third party ears.

"You're straight," Castiel sighed, his heart thudding rapidly despite his declaration. "Of course there's nothing going on."

"I make an exception for special guys," Dean shrugged. "Ask Sammy about it if you don't believe me."

"I'm not special," Castiel immediately responded.

"Oh, but you are, Castiel Novak." Dean argued, unfastening one of the buttons on the bottom of Cas' coat before refastening it. "So will you at least give me a chance at proving myself a worthy boyfriend?"

Castiel's heard skittered nervously and he blushed at the idea of being able to call Dean Winchester, local womanizer, his _boyfriend_. Dean waited patiently for his answer as the bus pulled to a stop outside the school and everyone began to gather their things.

"Alright… I'll give you a chance," Castiel decided with a slight nod of his head. Dean smiled, gently moving Castiel out of his lap and standing. Grabbing both his and Castiel's backpack, he moved into the aisle and motioned Castiel to follow.

Moving off the bus, Castiel still doing his best to hide his limp, they waited on the sidewalk beside Sam. Dean carried both his and Castiel's backpacks, making no complaints as they waited. Castiel reached for his but Dean held it out of reach with a shake of his head.

Sighing, Castiel wrapped his arms around himself and stood as close to Dean as was socially acceptable and shivered as a frigid gust of wind blasted his now barren neck. He glanced up at Dean, who was watching Sam talk to the bus driver. Castiel's scarf was still tied securely around the older boy's neck.

"What did taking my scarf have to do with your plan?" He wondered aloud, and Dean glanced down at him before looking away with a grin.

"Nothing," He answered. "I just wanted your scarf."


	4. Chapter 4

**WARNINGS / NOTES**:

- This chapter does contain a little Destiel action! It's not sex, and it's not extremely graphic, but I feel the need to warn you regardless.

- Also, if you play "I Don't Want to Miss A Thing" by Aerosmith when you see the " **(****)** " you will understand what is happening in the scene much better.

- Enjoy!

Chapter: 04

Dean respected Castiel's wishes to the best of his ability as they tried to make their messy relationship work. Sam was the only one who truly knew what was going on between the two boys, but others in the community had their suspicions. Castiel was careful to cover his tracks, though- to make sure no one could capture proof and provide it to his mother.

Because of Castiel's cautious nature, and Lucifer and Michael's constant presence at school, the boys were limited to brief displays of affection. Dean put up with these rules, understanding of the situation, but when Thanksgiving break rolled around near the two month marker of their relationship Dean demanded that he and Castiel spend at least one day of the break alone together.

Since Castiel was trying his best to keep Dean hidden from his mother, he agreed to go over to Dean's house the day before Thanksgiving. It was because of this agreement that Castiel was now standing at the end of his driveway in the middle of blizzard-like conditions, his nose tucked into the collar of his turtle-neck as he waited for Dean to arrive.

His cold was long gone, his bruises fading and his ankle only problematic if he moved too quickly. The cut on his jaw would scar, but he didn't mind; he didn't know how many times Dean had traced his fingers over the tender skin in the past two weeks, or how many times his stomach had made happy knots thinking about the light touch on his face.

Castiel huffed out a breath of relief as the rumble of an engine sounded in the distance, fumbling to tug his beanie down over his ears with numb fingers. The sound grew louder until Castiel could finally make out the shape of a slow-moving car in the distance.

If his face wasn't so cold, he would have smiled. The Impala was just as beautiful as Dean had described it, the engine purring as the sleek black car came to a slow stop beside Castiel and the passenger door was thrown open from inside. Stumbling, Castiel slid into the warm exterior of the car and slammed the door shut behind him. Dean was sitting behind the wheel, chuckling as he took in Castiel's frozen appearance.

"How long have you been standing there?" He smiled, pulling Castiel's snow-damp beanie off his head and combing his fingers through the younger boy's hair. Castiel shrugged out of his coat, throwing the damp article of clothing in back with his beanie and slipping his feet out of his boots. Leaning forward, he held his hands out in front of the vent and let the heat warm his numb fingers.

"About ten minutes," He managed to answer through the slowly dying chatter of his teeth.

"You poor thing," Dean chuckled, reaching out to Castiel in the small space. Castiel immediately fell into Dean's embrace, burying his face in the older boy's neck and enjoying the warmth. Dean kept one arm wrapped securely around the figure curled into his side, using the other to turn the car around and direct them back towards his house.

Castiel was curious to see where the Winchester boys lived, and even more curious to see Dean's bedroom. Though expressing this desire out loud could be taken very badly, Castiel wanted to see it because it would give him a better idea of Dean's interests- not because he wanted to have Dean do things to his body that no one else would… That idea wasn't distasteful, either, though.

"How's your day been?" Dean asked conversationally as they drove, shaking Castiel from his thoughts.

"Fine," Castiel shrugged, playing with the zipper of Dean's jacket. He realized that he'd never seen Dean without the leather article. "My mother is trying to arrange a community party for Christmas,"

"I think I'll pass on that one," Dean muttered, making a face.

"I agree," Castiel chuckled. "What about you? Have you had a good day?"

"It's been great since you got in the car," Dean smiled, squeezing the younger boy gently against his side.

"You're a flirt, Dean Winchester." Castiel rolled his eyes, fighting a blush as he pressed his still-cold nose against the column of Dean's throat. The older boy retaliated with nothing more than a smile and a shrug.

The rest of the drive was spent in comfortable silence, Dean's thumb rubbing over the material of Castiel's sweater thoughtfully as he drove. Castiel found himself drifting off, the warmth of Dean's body providing a comfortable resting place, but before he could fall asleep the car turned onto a gravel road. Castiel sat up as Dean turned the car off and pocketed the keys.

"Better put your boots on," Dean warned, opening his door and stepping out. Castiel shuddered against the cool blast of air as it brushed past him, doing as Dean said and slipping his boots on over his socks. He didn't bother to grab his coat- he didn't think he'd need it. Opening his own door, he stepped out into the snow and severely regretted his choice to leave the coat behind. Squinting against the wind, he shuffled forward unsurely.

"You're going the wrong way," He jumped as Dean appeared beside him, his hand sliding into Castiel's as if it belonged there. Their fingers slid together easily, and Castiel was glad that he could blame the cold on his flaming cheeks.

Tugging on Castiel's hand gently, Dean turned him in the right direction and the two moved quickly on to a rickety porch. Castiel kept close to Dean's side, afraid the wooden structure might collapse under their weight as Dean fumbled to unlock the front door, finally managing to bring Castiel inside.

The small house was warm and quiet, barley any living room to speak of as Dean closed and locked the door behind them. He smiled shyly as Castiel hovered in the small room, unsure how to go about this; he'd never truly been alone with Dean. The older boy bent down to unlace his boots, and Castiel followed his example; slipping out of his wet snow-boots, he set them neatly by the door and turned to find Dean standing in the doorway of what looked to be the kitchen.

"Hot-chocolate sound good?" The older boy offered, and Castiel nodded. Dean turned, disappearing into the kitchen area, and Castiel looked awkwardly around him. There was a worn sofa pressed against one wall and a television on mute in the corner. On the small coffee table between the two laid a discarded deck of cards, and two empty bottles of beer.

There wasn't room for much more in the small space, and Castiel frowned as he looked at the barren walls; there was no family photos, no paintings… Just peeling wall paper. Burying his hands in his pockets, he perched himself on the edge of the couch and contented himself while watching the silent fishing show on the television.

"Are you seriously watching that?" Dean asked some time later, and Castiel startled as the couch sank under Dean's weight. The older boy held out a mug of whipped-cream topped hot chocolate and Castiel accepted it with a smile.

"It's interesting," Castiel shrugged, watching as Dean stretched out on the couch, his feet lying in Castiel's lap. Grinning, Castiel pinched one of Dean's toes where it was hidden under his sock and Dean made a sound of protest as he licked whipped-cream off his top lip.

"My dad leaves the TV running all the time," Dean shrugged, and Castiel sipped tentatively at the liquid in his cup. He found that Dean had done a surprisingly good job with the drink. "There's always some kind of fishing or hunting show on."

"I thought you were a tough guy," Castiel teased, picking at the leg of Dean's jeans. "Don't tough guys like fishing and hunting?"

"Depends on what I'm hunting." Dean answered, setting his now empty cup on the table next to the beers. Castiel set his cup aside as well, though it wasn't empty.

"I'm Dean Winchester," Castiel imitated his boyfriend, his voice coming out somewhat deeper. "I wrestle wild grizzlies and kill them with my bare hands." Dean laughed, a noise Castiel had learned to love, and shoved lightly at Castiel's stomach with his foot.

"I don't wrestle them," Dean winked. "I just look at them and they fall over dead."

"Oh, you wish," Castiel chuckled as Dean sat up, swinging his legs off Castiel's lap and unzipping his jacket. Castiel watched, fascinated, as Dean slipped his arms out of the leather article and dropped it on the arm of the couch. Underneath it he was wearing a simple green shirt, the long sleeves hanging off his thin arms. A small gold pendant sat in the center of his chest, held up by a leather cord, and Castiel stared at it for a moment before Dean's voice drew his attention away.

"All it takes is one look, and you get light headed. What makes you think I can't do it to a grizzly?"

"Charming, Dean," Castiel blushed, rolling his eyes. "But I don't get light headed."

"You do blush," Dean pointed out as he moved down the hall, motioning Castiel to follow in the narrow space. There were two bedrooms and a miniscule bathroom, each door cracked just enough to give a glimpse at its purpose. Dean pushed open the door to the bedroom at the very end of the hall and Castiel followed him, stepping into a room just big enough to fit two twin beds and a dresser.

Both beds were made to perfection, one with navy blue sheets and the other with plain white. A pile of boxes laid at the foot of the navy bed, whereas the area around the white one was devoid of anything but stacks of books and messily tacked posters.

"You and Sam share a room?" Castiel questioned as he picked up a hardback that was lying to the side of the otherwise neat pile of books; it was a copy of _Great Expectations_.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, sitting down on the navy bed. He didn't look right on the small piece of furniture; he looked too large, too grown. Setting the book down on top of the stack of Sam's belongings, he took a seat beside Dean and glanced at the boxes at the end of his bed.

"You haven't unpacked your things?" He asked, opening one of the boxes and peeking inside. He smiled when he saw the mass of cassette tapes messily tossed together.

"Guess I just haven't gotten to it," Dean shrugged, and when Castiel glanced at him he saw something sad flicker in Dean's eyes before it disappeared. "What're you looking at?" He asked, more cheerful this time as he strained his neck to see the inside of the box Castiel was examining.

"You've got quite the cassette tape collection," He smiled, reaching a hand in and selecting a random one. Glancing at the label, he found that he was holding an _Aerosmith_ tape.

"A lot of them are Dad's," Dean shrugged as Castiel plopped down on the bed beside him, the tape still in his hands.

"What about this one? Is it yours or your dad's?" He asked, holding the tape out to Dean. The older boy took it, stretching out on the bed and reaching under his pillow. He pulled out what Castiel recognized to be an old walkman and quickly traded the tape that was currently in the device for the one Castiel had given him.

"Only one way to find out," He shrugged, patting the bed beside himself. Castiel laid down, careful not to crowd Dean against the wall, and turned on his side to face the other boy. Dean offered one headphone to Castiel and the younger boy placed it in his ear as Dean did the same with the other one, hitting play and closing his eyes as the music began to play.

"Mine," He announced less than two minutes into the first song, opening his eyes and smiling at Castiel. "Came out sometime in seventy five; it was a bitch to find a copy still on cassette,"

Castiel nodded, picking at the blanket beneath him. Though he wasn't a large fan of anything outside the acoustic genre, he was trying to enjoy this for Dean's sake. He was so focused on the music that he jumped when Dean sat up beside him, letting his ear bud fall out, and leaned over the edge of the bed to riffle through the box. Castiel watched curiously until he found what he was looking for with a triumphant grunt, and returned to his spot between Castiel and the wall.

**(********)**

The tape was simply labeled "Armageddon", and Castiel sat silently as Dean placed it in the walkman and tossed the _Aerosmith_ tape into the box. Dean then settled down and hit play, returning his ear bud to its place in his left ear. Castiel smiled as a soft symphonic sound began; this was more his speed.

When the singing began, Dean wound his arms around Castiel's waist and pulled him closer. Dean's eyes never left the younger boy's face, his expression soft as Castiel chewed on his bottom lip and listened carefully to the words.

And, to Castiel's surprise, Dean Winchester did something romantic.

At the songs direction, Dean pulled Castiel closer and rested a hand gently over the younger boy's frantically beating heart. They stayed like this for some time, simply staring at one and other as the singer explained his desire to never miss a moment of his lover.

Then, still in time with the singers instructions, Dean slowly moved forward and kissed the skin around Castiel's eyes until they fell closed in silent pleasure, at which point he gently touched his lips to the sensitive skin of his eyelids.

Castiel smiled as Dean continued to plant soft kisses across his temple and jaw until he reached the corner of Castiel's mouth; uncharted territory. He hesitated there, mouthing a few words of the song, and Castiel's stomach fluttered nervously when the singer mentioned smiles and kisses. Dean brushed his lips softly over Castiel's, a tentative and shy kiss, before following the singer's instructions and pulling Castiel closer.

He continued through this cycle several times, the light touches of his lips to Castiel's skin falling in time with the music until it slowly faded out to silence and he paused with his lips against Castiel's chin.

Castiel's eyes slowly fluttered open to find that Dean had been watching him the whole time, the gold in his eyes particularly vibrant. He leaned away from Castiel just enough so that the younger boy could see his whole face, the next song playing in their ears going unbeknownst to them both. All that existed in Castiel's universe right now was the boy lying beside him, and the distance between that that needed to be eliminated.

Dean seemed to read his mind, pulling the earbuds gently from both their ears and reaching over Castiel to rest the Walkman on the floor beside the bed. The music was still playing, though too quietly for either boy to hear or care. Castiel stared up at Dean where the boy was now hovering over him, smiling shyly. Dean returned the smile, moving Castiel so that he was centered on the bed and one of Dean's knees was resting between his legs, the other on the outside of his left thigh.

Castiel was unfamiliar with every sense of the bedroom – he'd only ever pecked Balthazar on the lips once or twice,- whereas Dean had more experience than Castiel cared to think about. So he let Dean lead the situation with his usual air of confidence, believing that things wouldn't get further than a few heated kisses. After all; that brief brush of lips a few moments before was the closest thing to a kiss that the couple had shared in their still-young relationship.

Dean's thought process was much different than Castiel's, however. Though he had been with plenty of women – and a few select men – he had never been with someone like Cas. He had never looked at someone and thought about taking them out to dinner, or taking drives with them just for fun. He had never been nervous to screw things up, or to kiss the person lying beneath him in a bed. And had had_ never_ done something as ridiculously sappy as kissing someone in time with an Aerosmith song.

Dean knew Castiel Novak was special from the start, but as time went on he was slowly realizing just how special the boy really was.

Castiel watched the conflicting emotions cross Dean's face and frowned, reaching up to play with the amulet dangling between their bodies. This seemed to shake Dean from his stupor as he glanced down at Castiel's long fingers toying with the golden charm.

"Sam gave it to me," Dean said, regaining his bravery and leaning down to press a soft kiss to the point where Castiel's jaw met his neck. Cas' fingers closed gently around the trinket.

"That's nice," He sighed, letting his eyes close as Dean's lips drifted over his skin, distracting him.

"Mhmm," Dean agreed.

Their conversation went no further, for at that moment Dean chose to press his lips to Castiel's.

Instinctually, Castiel made a pleased sound in the back of his throat and locked his arms around Dean's neck. That one sound changed everything; Dean's mind left its tender mode and switched over to sexual auto-pilot, Castiel's brain function failing him as the older man growled softly against his mouth and deepened the kiss.

After years of perfecting his kissing methods, it didn't take long for Dean to teach the inexperienced Castiel just how many different ways there was to kiss a person. Castiel learned that it was alright to nip at Dean's bottom lip, and to fight against the dominance Dean's tongue tried to assert within his mouth; these little actions of rebellion actually seemed to please Dean, drawing soft chuckles or growls from him.

For some time, Dean hovered over Castiel and tried his best not to do anything that might startle the boy beneath him. He didn't mind kissing – Castiel tasted like a delicious mix of mint and hot chocolate – but his body was quickly growing warmer as his mind processed the ingredients laid out before it and started to bake its sexual cake.

"Cas," He sighed against the younger mans mouth, groaning softly as Castiel looked up at him with blown pupils and swollen lips.

Castiel looked up into Dean's lust clouded eyes and fought the urge to sit up and swallow the words spilling from his lips. His hormones were raging, his body more than interested in joining his lips in exploring what Dean had to offer.

"Yeah?" He breathed, his fingers running through the shorts hairs at the base of Dean's neck. Dean groaned softly at the action, his eyes falling closed; if ever there was a direct link to Dean's arousal, it was his hair- or, rather, his overly sensitive scalp.

"Nothing," He shook his head, diving back down to catch Castiel's lips against his once more. The younger man made no attempt to push him away, instead sliding his hands slowly over the sensitive hairs on his neck, briefly exploring each knot of his spine, before they came to a rest on Dean's hips.

Lust overruling common-sense, Castiel gently pulled at the hem of Dean's shirt. He half expected Dean to still above him- to climb out of the bed and walk away – but instead he grinned against Castiel's mouth. Slowly pulling away from the kiss, Dean sat up. He let his weight rest on Castiel's thighs, not missing Castiel's groan as he did so, and quickly pulled the shirt over his head before slotting his body over Castiel's once more.

Castiel whimpered at the foreign feel of skin under his fingertips, his nails biting into the small of Dean's back. Dean groaned at the small hint of pain, only making his attempts at going slow seem more futile, and bit down gently on Castiel's bottom lip without thought; the younger man gasped, instinctually sucking his lower lip into his mouth and sucking tenderly on it.

Dean whispered a soft apology before moving down to brush his lips over the curve of Castiel's neck, his fingers sneaking under Castiel's sweater and helping him to pull it off. Things seemed to speed up then, Dean's lips exploring the pale planes of Castiel's neck and chest as the younger man whimpered and squirmed, unable to do anything else until his hands found the button of Dean's jeans on accident.

The older man hissed at the sudden contact and heard the distinct sound of his zipper before glancing down to discover his jeans were riding low on his hips, the black fabric of his boxers peeking out. He looked to Castiel and grinned when he saw the boy was blushing, seeming dazed.

"I-I didn't," He stuttered, looking from the newly exposed fabric and back to Dean. "I'm not sure why I,"

"Oh, hush," Dean chuckled, pressing his hips down into Castiel's and receiving an aroused squeak of surprise for his efforts. He smiled, ducking down and kissing Castiel with a new ferocity as their hips began to move in sync.

Dean's body was just beginning to hum pleasantly, Castiel making small noises of desperation against his mouth, when the door to the bedroom suddenly swung open.

"Hey, De- Oh, _shit_,"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter: 05

Castiel picked nervously at the sleeve of his sweater as Dean stopped the Impala at the end of the Novak driveway. Dean's hair was sticking up messily from where Castiel's fingers had earlier teased it out of its usually controlled state of chaos, and his lips were swollen and red. His jeans were riding low, a thin strip of boxer teasing Castiel's eyes and his shirt sitting sideways on his shoulders.

The younger boy wasn't in much better shape, though; Castiel's sweater was wrinkled and his hair was a thoroughly mused mess. His bottom lip was particularly swollen from Dean's soft biting earlier in the evening, and there was a dark mark over his collar bone that he was glad his sweater's turtle neck hid.

Sam sat silently in the back, looking politely out the window to give the couple a moment of privacy as Dean grabbed Castiel's coat and beanie from the seat beside his younger brother and watched as Castiel put the clothes on. Tucking the beanie down over his ears, the smaller boy looked over to Dean with a shy smile.

"I guess I'll text you, then?" Dean asked, squeezing Castiel's hand where their fingers had been laced together the entire drive.

"I'll call you later if I get the chance," Castiel nodded, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to Dean's cheek. Dean turned his head just a fraction though, catching the younger man's lips. Castiel relaxed into the kiss despite the embarrassing events earlier in the evening, and the couple's lips moved together lazily until Sam cleared his throat.

"Bye Sam," Castiel muttered, knowing the younger Winchester was annoyed with his brother and Castiel both as he quickly pulled away from Dean and stepped out of the car. Shivering in the snow, he stood in the driveway and watched as Dean turned the car around and waved at Cas before heading down the road at a cautious speed.

Smiling to himself, Castiel turned and began the trek home with his hands buried in the pockets of his coat. His mind turned over the events of the evening, and his stomach twisted as he tried to drift past the idea that he'd very nearly lost his most prized possession; if it hadn't been for Sam's intrusion, he was positive he wouldn't have left the Winchester house with his virginity intact. Dean Winchester was like a drug, and Castiel was a born addict.

Kicking at a clump of snow, Castiel's mind drifted to the topic of the actual household. It was a sad excuse for a home, and it looked so terribly generic that Castiel could hardly believe a family lived within its walls. There were holes in the roof, and hardly any paint to speak of on the wooden structure. The rooms were small and cramped, the kitchen in desperate need of an update; the walls were peeling, and there was water stains everywhere you looked. The poor front porch had almost collapsed under his and Dean's joint weight, for goodness' sake!

There was no comparison between his own home and Dean's, Castiel realized with a frown as the lights of his own dwelling came into view. Locally nicknamed Novak Manor was a massive three-story structure painted a soft yellow, with a white porch that wrapped all the way around the building and personal balconies for most second floor rooms, and one balcony for the third floor suite. There were seven bedrooms and a joining bathroom for each one, alongside a dining room and a living room that now functioned as Ms. Novak's library.

The house was completed only a week before Castiel was born, a project his father had taken on upon his youngest son's conception; with four children and a fifth on the way, he had built the manor in attempt to provide his children with a life-long home. Here the house stood almost seventeen years later, though; only one of the seven rooms had a permanent occupant while dust collected in the rest.

Though the houses were different in every possible way, they did share one connection; they housed nothing but the broken fragments of a family, and the heartbreak that came with the situation.

Stepping in the front door, trying hard to silence his overactive mind, Castiel was glad for the heat. He shrugged out of his coat, hanging it in its usual place on the coat rack and combing his fingers through his hair as he headed towards the stairs. All he wanted to do was take a shower and read the latest book in his favorite series, but his attempt to get away was ruined as he heard the sharp tap of heels on the foyer floor.

"Jonathon Castiel Novak," He turned just in time to receive a sharp blow against his left temple, wincing as his mother stood stiffly before him. Naomi Novak was a strict woman with military grade posture and eyes that constantly churned like an angry ocean. Though Castiel hated to admit it, he had inherited the same square jaw and lean body of the woman before him; only her auburn hair differed from her younger son.

In her hand was clutched a bible, the corner worn from the countless times it had left swollen marks against Castiel's skin.

"Where have you been?" She demanded, pressing the bible tightly to her chest as she glared at Castiel.

"I thought I would take a walk," Castiel lied, well aware that this was an activity of sin. With the slowly rising knot on his temple, courtesy of the King James edition closed in his mother's hands, he honestly couldn't find the will to care.

"I thought I was explicit in my instructions," The older woman raised the bible, and Castiel made no attempt to protect himself as she hit him against the temple once more; protecting himself simply enraged her. "You are not to leave this house without my permission."

"You were away when I left," Castiel tried, biting his tongue as she narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"You are living under my roof, Jonathon, and I will not tolerate your disobedience. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mother," Castiel relented, bowing his head apologetically despite the urge to storm away like any other teenager would in the situation. His mother grunted, seeming pleased, and tucked the bible under her arm.

"Now that you've been disciplined, you need to go shower." She ordered. "Your brother and sister will be arriving shortly, and I expected you to participate in dinner. I will not allow you to ruin our evening, either; I will send you to your bedroom if you partake in any sinful activity, Jonathon,"

"Anna and Gabriel are coming?" Castiel's heart swelled at the prospect of seeing his older siblings.

"Yes. Anna is bringing along a boyfriend, as well," Naomi explained, then stepped close to her son. Castiel tensed as she shoved a dangerous finger into his chest. "If you try to tempt him into your ways, I will have Pastor Carlos drown you in holy water. Is that understood?"

"Yes Mother," He breathed, swallowing hard as she leaned away from him. With one last sharp look, his mother turned and walked quickly back from where she'd come. Castiel didn't hesitate to climb the stairs and climb in the shower, more than grateful for the gentle treatment he'd received. Usually, his mother was much harsher.

His mind didn't stay on the topic of his mother for long, though; instead it chose to focus on the idea that Gabriel and Anna were on their way to see him. Though Castiel had four siblings and two parents, the twins were the only people he considered family. Even before his parents had divorced, and everything about his sinful existence had come to light, Castiel never truly cared for anyone but them.

He hadn't seen the twins since they left for college a few months earlier, and his mother had refused to let him have contact with them either. It had been a blow that Castiel had taken awhile to recover from, but recover he had. He knew he couldn't risk getting overly-attached to either one of the twins while they were here, or allow himself to enjoy their presence even, because watching them leave again would be painful.

Stepping out of the shower, he toweled furiously at his hair and snagged his favorite orange sweater from its place in the closet. Slipping the worn fabric on over his head, he glanced down to make sure that the collar covered the mark Dean had left on his collarbone before he stepped into a pair of jeans and combed his hair into a damp but decent mess. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he was pleased to find a not-so-sad boy staring back at him.

"Jonathon, come down!" His mother cried just as he was crossing the room to collect his phone, hoping Dean had texted while he was showering.

"Coming, Mother!" He called, forgetting the mobile device as he moved quickly down the stairs and walked around the corner to find his mother helping three people carry a series of small suitcases into the room.

His breath caught in his throat as two very familiar faces turned towards him, both grinning. Gabriel and Anna both were practically glowing, bundled in their winter coats and rosy-cheeked from the cold. Anna's long red hair spilled down her back, and Gabriel's eyes sparkled as he rushed his younger brother.

"You grew!" Gabriel announced one he released Castiel from a lung-crushing hug, smiling fondly at his younger sibling. Castiel smiled, realizing Gabriel was right; the younger was now taller than the older by several inches.

"He definitely did," Anna smiled, standing on her toes to press a kiss to Castiel's cheek. "Hey, Castiel,"

"Hello," Castiel smiled, accepting a brief hug from his sister. He quickly pulled away as their mother hurried in beside a large man who towered over everyone else in the room, laughing as she gazed fondly up at him. Realizing his hands were shaking as he watched the dark eyed man across the room, Castiel tucked them in the pockets of his jeans and tried to make himself as small as possible as his mother's threat resounded through his head.

His actions didn't go unnoticed as Gabriel and Anna shared a look, raising their eyebrows at Castiel's actions. He pretended not to notice, rubbing at a scuff on the foyer floor with his toe as his mother led the large man towards the group.

"Jonathon, this is Eric," Naomi introduced, her eyes hard as her youngest son slowly raised his face. "He's Anna's boyfriend."

"Pleased to meet you Jonathon," Eric extended a meaty hand and Castiel warily shook it before quickly retreating. Anna frowned as she stepped close to Eric's side.

"He goes by Castiel," She explained as the large man glanced between the frightened teenager and his girlfriend where she was tucked under his arm. "He's very shy, but he'll warm up to you eventually."

Eric nodded and Castiel pretended not to hear the brief conversation, his eyes looking anywhere but at the couple. Gabriel asked the younger boy if he'd mind helping with their bags, and Castiel accepted to offer with silent gratitude. Picking up what he could carry, he followed Gabriel up the stairs and down the hall.

"What was that about?" Gabriel demanded once they were out of hearing range.

"What?" Castiel feigned innocence as he set the bags he was carrying just inside the threshold of his sister's old room.

"You looked like you were going to throw up when Eric walked in," Gabriel frowned, motioning Castiel to follow him into his bedroom. The younger sibling did so, pulling the door closed behind himself, and watched as Gabriel dropped his suitcase on to his bed and threw it open.

"He looked like he might eat me," Castiel shrugged, taking a seat on one of the bean-bags in the corner of Gabriel's room. His older sibling snickered as he pulled clothes from his bag, brows furrowed as he searched for something.

"He may be huge, but he wouldn't hurt a fly unless he had to," Gabriel assured him, grinning as he discovered what he'd been looking for. He pulled a wool scarf from his bag, the fabric soft in his hands as he turned to Castiel.

"Thought you might like this," He tossed the ball of cloth at his brother and Castiel caught it, smiling as he unfurled it and noticed Gabriel's college logo on the bottom right corner. "You've always had a thing for scarves,"

"Thanks, Gabe," Castiel smiled, winding the material around his neck and letting it rest there.

"No problemo, little bro," Gabriel smiled as he plopped down in the beanbag beside Castiel. "So what's the chit-chat, huh? You going to catch me up on what's been going on with you?"

"Nothing, really," Castiel shrugged, fingering the end of his new scarf and thinking of his old one- Dean had never returned it.

"Your goo-goo eyes say otherwise," Gabriel accused, staring evenly at his younger sibling.

"Goo-goo what? I do not have goo-goo eyes!" Castiel grumbled indignantly.

"So… Who is he?" Gabriel demanded, and Castiel's gut turned happily at hearing the simple word 'he'. If everyone in his life – in his town – was as accepting of his sexuality, as supportive of it, as Gabriel and Anna… He would be a much happier person.

"His name is Dean Winchester," Castiel admitted, smiling at how wonderful it was to say these words out loud. "He's my boyfriend."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter: 06

Jonathon Castiel Novak was never meant to exist, and sometimes he wished he didn't.

After the birth of their eldest, Lucifer, in the middle of a record-hot August, Christian and Naomi Novak decided they only wanted three more children, and they carefully planned for the arrival of these children. Michael was born thirteen months later in mid September, and then twin siblings Gabriel and Anna were the last ones to arrive after another thirteen month gap, in late October.

The parents had what they wanted and, from what Castiel could tell in the faded photographs his mother had stowed away, they were happy. The family of six had lived in a large house near the local church, where they loyally attended mass every Sunday and afterwards invited friends over to the house for a meal. Things remained this way for awhile until, a little over a year after the twin's birth, the Novak fairytale began to collapse.

Naomi's mother fell ill, and the desperate daughter prayed for a miracle. Soon after her mother's diagnosis, she discovered she was pregnant and thought that the baby would be the miracle she had asked for. She quickly found out that Jonathon Castiel Novak was the farthest thing from a miracle though, when her mother died the same day in April that her youngest son was born.

Castiel's mother said he had been nothing but trouble since she brought him home from the hospital; he constantly had to change schools because of bullies in his early years, his medical bills had always been large due to his terrible eye sight and his weak immune system, and he had been a terribly clingy child. When Naomi discovered he was gay two years ago, it had been her breaking point; Castiel was unwanted by his mother, and he accepted that.

Gripping the railing under his hands with white knuckles and staring out across the snowy front yard, Castiel fought the urge to cry as he thought of his mother's particularly vicious nature this evening. She had explained every aspect of the Novak family to Anna's boyfriend, not bothering to censor herself; she'd called Castiel by every unholy term her mind could come up with, and blamed him for everything from her mother's death to the terrible weather right now.

Castiel had come to terms with the fact that his mother didn't want him, but he could never do the same for the abuse. Whether it be physical or emotional, it was always different; there was no pattern, no thought to what people did to him. The constant changing nature of the bullying was what made it so hard to get used to; he would be so close to blocking it all out, when someone would shout something so nasty and terrible that it would crawl under Castiel's skin and sit there for weeks, eating him from the inside out.

Tonight it had been the word faggot. How do you feel about faggots, his mother had asked Eric. Castiel had been so startled that the bowl of pees in his hand slipped and spilled. His mother had been fuming, her eyes blazing dangerously as she grabbed Castiel by the arm and dragged him up the stairs. He did his best to apologize for the mistake, wanting nothing more than to return to the table and hide between Gabriel and Anna. She shoved him inside his bedroom and followed him inside.

She had spent close to an hour beating him down verbally, swatting and kicking at him until he was pressed against the bed and fighting the urge to cry. She was always worse once she'd had a glass of wine, but after the three glasses she had before dinner this evening she had developed a loose tongue and even looser hands.

Now he was standing on his balcony an hour later, his left eye swelling closed and a series of scratches and bruises forming on his arms and legs. He was contemplating how much damage the fall would do were he to tumble over the edge. Suicide was something he had contemplated many times, but he hadn't ever built the courage to do it. Every time he made to step in front of a moving car, or leaned forward to tumble off a high-rise, he would picture Balthazar's bloody body or - more recently - Dean's smile.

_Dean_. The name brought Castiel slowly to his senses and he stepped back into his bedroom, leaving the balcony doors open and allowing the icy air to drift inside. Grabbing his phone from its place on the floor beside him, he blindly dialed his boyfriend's number and pressed the phone to his ear.

The phone rang several times before going to voice mail, and Castiel threw the phone across the room with an angry shout as the voice told him to leave a message. The small device broke with a snap, and Castiel scrambled on his hands and knees to where it was laying in two pieces. A sob snuck its way past his defenses as he tried to fit the pieces back together, giving up after awhile and wiping at his wet eyes with the sleeve of his sweater.

His stomach ached emptily and his eyes burned as more tears threatened to spill. He climbed warily to his feet, wanting nothing more than to hear Dean's voice as he clambered into bed without bothering to close the balcony doors; if he froze to death in his sleep, at least he wouldn't have to worry about covering his swollen eye and scratched face.

Castiel tucked his nose under the hem of the scarf his brother had gifted him and closed his eyes, allowing the slowing beat of his heart and the soft breeze sooth as the urge to cry slowly receded and left him in a numb state of being. He accepted this numbness and sighed contently, finally able to fall into some form of sleep.

He wasn't sure how long he had been sleeping when a soft bang brought him back to reality. His fingers were numb with cold, his cheeks stinging as he sat up and glanced around the room. He noticed a figure standing near the now closed balcony door, and he wondered if that was the bang that had woken him.

"Gabriel?" He asked quietly, throwing away the blankets and moving towards the shadowed figure. How had his brother gotten into his room, he wondered, when his mother had locked the door?

"Who the hell is Gabriel?" Dean's gruff voice replied and Castiel released a surprised squeak as he was grabbed around the waist and pulled against a broad chest. Dean's lips were crashing against his before he could answer the question though, demanding the younger boy kiss back as he nipped at his lower lip. Castiel gasped against his boyfriend's mouth, surprised by the violent and desperate edge to the older man's actions, and Dean took the opportunity to slide his tongue in to meet with Castiel's.

"What are you doing here?" Castiel gasped once he was finally allowed to pull away from the kiss, Dean's fingers skimming rapidly over the lines of his body. His fingers combed through Castiel's hair, down his spine and over his ass all the way down to his heels.

"Are you hurt?" Dean demanded in a whisper, squinting in the darkened room as if it would improve his vision.

"What, Dean? I'm fine, what's gotten into you?" Castiel whispered as Dean pulled him in for yet another kiss, this time less rushed; the boys lips moved together in lazy motions, Castiel's hands settling on Dean's shoulders as the older boy brushed his fingers gently over the small of the younger's back.

"You… You left a message on my phone," Dean sighed once their lips finally separated. "You just screamed, and then the line went dead… Shit, Cas… Do you know how scared I was when I couldn't get a hold of you?"

"I broke my phone." Castiel frowned, glancing at the small device where it was lying on the floor. He quickly looked back to Dean, whose eyes seemed alarmingly green in the darkness.

"Why'd you scream?" Dean probed, moving his hands soothingly up and down Castiel's back. The material of his sweater scratched against his skin with each movement of Dean's hands, and the younger boy shivered with the combined cold air of the room and the itchy drag of fabric against skin.

"You didn't answer, and… I wasn't in a very stable mood." He admitted quietly, pressing his forehead to Dean's shoulder and inhaling a soothing breath. The scent of Dean flooded his nostrils; generic soap, a hint of leather, and a nameless smell that Castiel simply labeled as Dean.

"What happened, Cas?" Dean asked, his gentle voice quite the contrary to the rough calluses of his hands as they brushed hair away from Castiel's forehead and took up a rhythm in stroking the younger boys hair.

"It was nothing," Castiel assured him, leaning into the comfort of Dean's larger body.

Though he knew the older boy was dying to know what had happened, Castiel was more than grateful when Dean didn't persist in his attempt to better understand the situation. Instead, a comfortable silence fell between them and Dean swayed ever so slightly with the younger boy in his arms. They remained this way for awhile, Castiel dozing off until a sound outside his bedroom door startled him back to reality.

"Oh my- you can't be here!" He hissed, shoving the older boy. Dean stumbled back, quickly covering his hurt expression with a cocked eyebrow.

"Dean, hide!" Castiel whispered urgently, motioning to the closet. Dean sighed, his expression promising later questions before he quickly dove into the younger boy's closet and disappeared amongst the shadows just as the bedroom door swung open.

"Castiel?" Gabriel's voice drifted into the room and the youngest Novak boy nearly fainted with relief, dropping heavily on to the foot of his bed as Gabriel kicked the door shut behind himself.

"Gabriel… I thought you were Mother," Castiel sighed, resting a hand over his rapidly beating hard in hopes of calming it.

"Do I look like I have breasts?" Gabriel scoffed, flipping the light switch. Castiel blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the sudden illumination in the room, squinting at his brother. Gabriel stood confidently by his younger brother's desk, clad in heavy winter gear. Though his attire was quite confusing, Castiel decided not to question it; this was Gabriel after all, the child who had glued his hands to the side of the house amidst a sugar-high at the age of fourteen.

"You did when you were a child," He smiled, teasing.

"You make it sound as if that was a disadvantage," Gabriel smirked. "It made touching myself quite interesting,"

"_Gabriel!_" Castiel spluttered, his cheeks heating; he could have sworn he heard Dean snickering from his hiding place.

"Oh, c'mon, Castiel," Gabriel chuckled, plopping down in Cas' desk chair and burying his hands in the pockets of his coat. "Don't act like you've never had a date with your right hand."

"I haven't," Castiel's blush darkened and he was acutely aware of his boyfriend hiding in the closest less than ten feet away as he wrung his hands nervously.

"You're sixteen- that's the biggest lie I've ever heard," Gabriel laughed, picking up one of the multiple pens lying on Castiel's desk and using it to doodle on the back of his hand. It was a habit their mother used to scold him for.

"I didn't say I'd never… Y'know, I just haven't…" Castiel fluttered his hands uselessly, unwilling to say the words.

"Oh, that poor boyfriend of yours," Gabriel sighed, shaking his head and blowing on the ink on his hand to keep it from smearing. Castiel's eyes flickered to the closet, where he could barely see the outline of Dean's boots in the shadows.

"I'm not that bad," Castiel's eyes moved back to his brother as he shrugged. "What do you want, anyways? It's…" Castiel glanced at his bedside clock. "Almost three in the morning,"

"I was going out for a late night pie run," Gabriel shrugged, standing. "You didn't get to eat dinner, so I figured I'd offer a ride along."

Castiel fidgeted nervously, warring between his empty stomach and his desire to spend time with Dean. Before he could make a decision though, Dean made it for him.

"He'll go," Dean announced, stepping out of his hiding place. Gabriel blinked, startled, and stared at Dean in obvious confusion. Castiel glared at his boyfriend and Dean smirked in retaliation, moving towards Gabriel with an extended hand. "Dean Winchester, the uh, poor boyfriend," He introduced.

"_Oh_," Gabriel grinned, shaking Dean's hand enthusiastically before turning to Castiel. "Sneaking boys in through the window? I always wondered why you're bedroom door was locked at night!"

"I did not sneak him in!" Castiel wrapped his arms around himself, blushing furiously, and shot a dangerous look at Dean as the older boy sat down on the bed beside him. Dean ignored the glare, one of his arms slipping around Castiel's body and pulling the younger boy tightly against his side.

"You're right- you made the mistake of leaving the balcony door open, though." Dean smirked, nuzzling Castiel's neck and brushing a butterfly kiss over the skin there. The younger boy squirmed, trying to break out of the embrace, but Dean's hold was steady.

"Oh, this is all so Romeo and Julian," Gabriel grinned. Though he hid it behind his teasing words and calm attitude, he was ecstatic to see his younger brother wrapped in the arms of another man; after the incident with Balthazar, Gabriel was almost sure Castiel would never recover.

"Juliet," Castiel corrected, finally slapping Dean's arms away and scrambling to lean against the headboard and cross his arms over his chest in a motion that clearly read 'get off of me'. Dean frowned dejectedly, laying his head on Castiel's shins after a moment and watching Gabriel with calm eyes. The older Novak was impressed with the rebellious boy; not many would be so cool in the presence of their lover's siblings.

"No, Julian," Gabriel tore his gaze away from the boy absently tracing his brothers ankles, looking to Castiel. "You were both men, last I checked. Therefore, you are Romeo and Julian."

"Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy," Castiel pointed out, petting his hands through Dean's hair. The older boy arched his back like a contented cat, pressing the line of his spine against Castiel's leg and resting his feet against the headboard beside Castiel's hip.

"Perhaps Romeo and Julian will be different," Gabriel suggested, shrugging.

"It will be." Castiel said with such conviction that Gabriel had to chuckle, shaking his head fondly at his younger brother. "Won't it, Dean?"

Dean looked up at Castiel with dark green eyes, the usual golden flecks strangely absent. His smile was gentle, but it didn't touch his eyes as Castiel expected it would. "Of course, Cas," Dean murmured, kissing Castiel's ankle gently before closing his eyes and turning his face away from his boyfriend.

Dean didn't want Castiel to see the doubt in the lines of his face, but Castiel could feel it in the stiff line of his spine.

[Sorry for the sort of crappy chapter, guys! Thank you to all of you who have stuck with this story, though!]


	7. Chapter 7

**So, there is some angry making out in this chapter. Just warning y'all ;) **

**Thank you for all the feedback! Please leave a comment, if you want/like anything specific! **

**Sorry for the sort of crappy chapter ending...**

Chapter: 07

Castiel felt incredibly heavy.

His puffy winter coat bulged unnaturally around the wrinkled material of his sweater, and the scarf his brother had recently gifted him covered the lower half of his face. The worn beanie atop his head covered his mop of dark hair, and protected his forehead from the frigid wind as he waddled – yes, waddled – along between Dean and Gabriel. The snow had long since breeched his boots, numbing his toes and making walking in a straight line a very arduous task.

The older boys were hardly bothered by the weather, strolling confidently along on either side of the youngest group member. Gabriel's face was hidden by the fur-rimmed hood, and his boots crunched heavily in the snow to Castiel's left. Dean had less cover then the other boys, nothing but his leather coat and a pair of combat boots; a scarf, as well.

"Is that my scarf?" Castiel murmured, a blush painting his already flushed cheeks as he looked closer at the black fabric wrapped around Dean's neck. Dean simply flashed Castiel a grin, tucking the tails of the cloth inside his jacket as they approached the diner they'd walked thirty minutes to reach. Gabriel held the door open, ushering the other boys inside before following closely behind.

"Why, boys, what are the three of you doing walking around in the snow this early in the morning?" Kenzie, the daughter of the diner's owner and a member of the local church, approached them with a welcoming smile and a handful of menus'. She was a pretty girl, with soft brown curls and great big doe-eyes; she and Gabriel had a short term relationship in high-school, but they quickly decided they didn't want to jeopardize their friendship and terminated the romance.

"You know me, Kenzie," Gabriel smiled, running his fingers through his hood-flattened hair and unzipping his coat. The warm air of the diner was a welcome change from the frigid air of the streets. "I've got to have my early morning sweets,"

Kenzie smiled fondly at Gabriel, her eyes skimming over Castiel entirely and raising an eyebrow as Dean hung his damp coat on one of the pegs near the door and straightened the tie around his neck. Her eyes roamed over his body in a slow line, flickering quickly up to his face as Dean moved to stand between Gabriel and Castiel.

"This is Dean Winchester," Gabriel answered the unspoken question, clapping the taller man on the shoulder. Dean smiled weakly, offering a tired wave before tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "He's new in town."

"I haven't seen you around, Dean," Kenzie drawled, her expression almost predatory as she eyed Dean. Castiel's blood boiled to dangerous levels, his hands clenching into fists within the pockets of his coat.

"I'm a senior down at the high school," Dean flashed his signature smile, shrugging. "Between that and the job, I don't get out much."

"Oh, where do you work?" Castiel wanted to wring the girl's petite neck as she twisted a dark curl around her finger, tucking her lower lip between her teeth. It was such an obvious flirtation it was disgusting.

"The auto shop down the road," Dean informed her.

"Oh, my dad is the owner." Kenzie smiled, absolutely delighted with Dean's news. "Don't you just love that Shelby that came in yesterday?"

"She's a beauty," Dean's eyes lit with that special flame that only old cars could ignite, his grin lopsided as he leaned against the hostess podium. "All she needs is some new paint and some engine work, then she'll be running like she's fresh off the lot."

"Maybe I could test drive it, some time," Kenzie offered, batting her eyelashes sweetly.

"I'd like that, Kenzie. You'd look damn pretty behind that wheel," Dean winked.

Castiel had heard enough; trying his best to remain calm, he made his way silently to the restroom at the back of the diner. Every sound echoed as he shuffled to the sink, running the tap and splashing a few soothing handfuls of cold water onto his flushed face and wincing as his fingers brushed the tender skin around his left eye. He tried not to think of his mother's furious face, or her white-knuckled fist.

Glancing at his reflection, Castiel scowled at the purple ring surrounding the swollen socket of his eye; the blue of his iris was shocking compared to the dark coloring. Probing gently at the bruise, Castiel winced as he found the center of the pain; a spot just beside the bridge of his nose. He pressed gently on the spot, biting his lip at the pain but finding it in a way comforting; it helped quiet his thoughts.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the dull ache of the bruise underneath his fingertips instead of the jealousy and self-doubt trying to drag him down.

"What're you doing?" Castiel jumped, spinning around on instinct and tripping over his still-numb feet. Strong arms shot out to grab him but Castiel twisted away from them without thinking, his brain providing a list of kind offers turned into bitter punishments. He landed on his elbow, the puffy material of his coat softening the landing only fractionally before his already bruised face met the cool tiles of the restroom floor as well. His skull bounced once before settling, and his leg was curled under him in a rather uncomfortable position.

He wanted to cry out, but he only managed an embarrassed moan as he rolled on to his back and stared up into Dean's shocked face. The older boy's arms were still outstretched, his lips parted in the small 'o' of surprise.

"Stop staring at me," Castiel ordered, his tone clipped as he struggled into a sitting position and rubbed gingerly at his throbbing elbow. His cheeks were flaming with embarrassment, his eye pounding painfully in its socket as he slowly climbed to his feet. Dean's arms fell flat at his sides, his eyebrows arched high; it was rare for Castiel to be anything but unnervingly calm.

"Let me see it," Dean sighed, shaking off Castiel's hostile temperament as a side effect of his embarrassment. He reached out to touch Castiel's elbow but the younger boy snatched his arm away, glaring.

"Go talk to _Kenzie_, Dean." He snapped, shuffling past a now flushed Dean and back into the main diner. Gabriel was sprawled across one of the seats, his boots resting in a puddle on the seat beside him. Huffing out an irritated breath, Castiel slid onto the bench across from him and made it a point to ignore Dean as the older boy sat down beside him a few minutes later.

"So, Dean," Gabriel slapped his menu flat on the table top, his eyes narrowing as he watched the older boy. "Are you a pie kind of man?"

"Definitely," Dean nodded, relaxing; the seat groaned under him, springs shifting to accommodate his body. Castiel pressed his aching face to the window, watching small flurries of snow roll by until Dean's fingers brushed over his knuckles, startling him.

Dean's mouth twitched, but he showed no other signs of disappointment as Castiel drew his hand back, burying it in his pocket and out of Dean's reach. Gabriel continued to question Dean about pies, oblivious to the tension between the couple across the table, and Dean kept a cool mask as he replied to Gabriel's questions.

Castiel remained silent, his eyes flickering between the snow outside and the waitress across the diner.

Kenzie's cheeks were tinged pink, her hands nervously playing with the ends of her apron-ties. Her wide doe-eyes were stuck on Dean, watching him like a hawk might a mouse as he laughed at something Castiel hadn't heard Gabriel say. She was the poster child of what Sam called the 'Dean Winchester Affect'; blushing, nervous, and dying for more.

Castiel reached for the small container of sugar packets, his hands shaking with cold and anxiety as he grabbed several of the pink packets and laid them out on the table before him.

Dean was his, he thought irritably as he began to prop the packets against one and other, and he was Dean's. If it weren't for his mother and the fear she had long since instilled in Castiel, Kenzie and the rest of the community would have known that flirting with Dean meant tampering with a taken man.

It wasn't really Kenzie's fault though, Castiel tried to remind himself; Dean had responded to her flirtatious nature with an unusual abundance of handsome swagger.

"Y'all know what you want yet?" Castiel glanced up from his work of sugar-packet architecture to find Kenzie standing at the end of their table. Was that button opened on her blouse when they arrived?

"I'll have some strawberry cake, Kenz." Gabriel smiled, setting his menu at the end of the table.

"And here I thought you were ordering pie, Gabriel," Kenzie chuckled, scribbling something on a small pad of paper before looking to Dean with an overly sweet smile. "How bout you?"

"A slice of apple cranberry pie would be lovely, Hun," Dean flashed a smile, holding out his menu; Kenzie's hands shook as she took it, her cheeks flushing impossibly red. Her eyes were slow to leave Dean, and hesitant to settle on Castiel.

"Small blackberry milkshake," Castiel ordered, his tone lacking any kind of life. "Please."

Kenzie made no comment on his choice, simply jotted it down and scooped up the menu's from the tabletop and grinned at Dean once more before scurrying towards the kitchen.

Castiel returned to his small tower of sugar, biting his lower lip as he focused on preventing the tower's collapse. Dean and Gabriel continued to chat quietly about small things -school and work - until the topic of siblings arose.

"Yeah, I got one brother," Dean nodded, his eyes soft as Castiel glanced at him. "Name's Sam- smart little bastard."

"Yeah?" Gabriel grinned. "How old is he?"

"Turns fifteen in March," Dean announced. "Gonna take him to go get his permit, let him ditch school for the day."

"Sure your parents will be happy about that?" Gabriel cautioned and Castiel listened closer; Dean never spoke about his parents.

"Mom's dead and dad's not really around enough to care," Dean shrugged, unfazed. "So I call the shots as I see fit."

"Sorry about your mom," Gabriel frowned, lowering his eyes to the table top.

"It's fine, dude. It's been almost fifteen years," Dean shrugged. "I don't remember her all that well- I was four when she died."

"I haven't seen my dad since I was five," Gabriel admitted. "But I still remember him."

"What happened to your dad?" Dean asked, changing the subject, looking between Gabriel and Castiel.

"He left her," Kenzie appeared at the foot of the table, setting Gabriel's cake in front of him and reaching for Castiel's milkshake. "Their mom, I mean. The whole town went into hysterics when they separated."

"Really?" Dean frowned.

"Yeah," Kenzie dropped Castiel's milkshake on the table in front of him, some of the purple liquid splashing on his coat. "Lucifer and Michael came to school crying about it and everyone was shocked,"

"Hold on- Lucifer and Michael? How would they know about the divorce?" Dean demanded, his eyes burning holes into Castiel's body.

"They're our older brothers," Gabriel shrugged, forking a piece of cake. "They moved out with dad. Me and Anna decided to stay with mom, and Castiel wasn't really old enough to make a choice so he stayed with us."

"Castiel," Dean grit out through his teeth. "Can I have a word with you, outside?"

Castiel shrugged nervously, watching as Dean slid out of the booth and motioned him to follow. Gabriel raised an eyebrow and Castiel waved him off, making to follow Dean.

"Where are y'all going?" Kenzie asked, taking a step forward as if to touch Dean's arm.

"Look, sweetheart," Dean spun, his face grave as he grabbed Castiel by the arm and pulled him towards the exit. "You're real sweet, and very pretty, but... My boyfriend is prettier. And I need to talk to him- alone."

Castiel's face was just as shocked as Kenzie's as Dean dragged the younger boy out the door and around a corner, pulling a few feet into the alley before releasing him with a scowl.

"You mean to tell me that the bastards who did _this_," Dean grabbed Castiel's chin almost violently, motioning to the healing cut that rested there. "Were your _older brothers_?"

"I don't see why it matters," Castiel frowned, jerking his chin out of the older boys hold and rubbing tenderly at the imprint of Dean's thumb against his jaw.

"Did one of them do that, too?" Dean demanded, motioning to Castiel's blackened eye. The younger boy bowed his head self-consciously, letting his hair cover the bruised skin.

"No," He whispered honestly, watching Dean from under his lashes.

"Bull shit, Castiel; you have a new bruise every time I see you. Dammit, what kinds of guys do this to their _baby brother_!" Dean combed his fingers through his hair, exhaling a clouded breath. He paced in front of Castiel for some time before finally yelling "I'm going to rip their lungs out!" and kicking at a nearby bottle, sending it flying down the alley.

Castiel flinched, lowering his eyes; he hadn't seen Dean get angry before. He'd heard from Sam that the elder Winchester brother had a fierce temper, but he'd only ever seen the gentle side of his boyfriend. Dean suddenly rounded on him, eyes flashing, and Castiel stumbled back a step as Dean advanced.

"Is that why you screamed, in the voice message? Someone was hitting you?" The older boy demanded, his expression fierce.

"No. I told you, I was just upset." Castiel sighed, burying his hands in his pockets.

"Because someone had hit you," Dean deducted, stepping closer until Castiel's back was pressed to the cool brick wall of the alley way. He felt suddenly very small, Dean's hands coming to rest on either side of his head and the larger man's body towering over his.

"Yes," He admitted, a slight tremor finding its way into his voice.

"Why would they hit you? What could you have possibly done to deserve it?" Dean growled, his eyes boring into Castiel's. The deep green pools were dotted with gold, pupils blown wide in the dim lighting; Castiel's own eyes, a startling shade of blue, were reflected in the endless pits.

"I'm gay." Castiel whispered, the words resting heavily in the narrow space between their bodies. Dean's jaw twitched, and this was all the warning Castiel got before Dean's lips were crashing against his – violent, demanding, but all the while tender.

Castiel welcomed the onslaught, all thoughts of his family and the abuse Dean so desperately wanted to find the cause of flying straight out the window as he allowed himself to fall into the kiss. His hands found their way to Dean's hips, sliding around to the small of his back and drawing him in as the kiss turned into something Castiel had never experienced before; it was angry, it was messy, and it was exactly what they both needed.

Dean's teeth closed harshly over his bottom lip, tugging roughly until Castiel reluctantly granted the older man the access he wanted. Dean's hands were almost frantic as he fisted Castiel's hair, tilting the younger boy's head in whatever direction best fit his needs. Castiel wasn't entirely submissive, though; his nails dug into the smooth skin at the small of Dean's back, trying desperately to pull the older man's body into alignment with his own.

Huffing out a frustrated sigh, Dean complied to the demands he was given and lifted the younger boy, propping him against the wall for support. Instinctually, Castiel's legs wrapped around Dean's thighs and his arms found their place around the older boy's neck, his head falling back as Dean took an interest in pampering the skin of his throat with soft kisses and stinging bites.

"So you just lay down and take the beatings?" Dean hissed, biting at the curve of Castiel's jaw. "Just take it like a little bitch?"

"Wh-What else can I do?" Castiel's fingers wove through the short hairs at the nape of Dean's neck, his fingernails dragging gently across the older man's scalp. Dean broke away from the spot he'd been sucking on with an obscene pop, rocking his hips hard into Castiel's; the younger man's back slammed into the bricks, pain racing up his spine and bringing a soft sound past his lips.

"Fight," Dean growled, his expression fierce as he jerked at the zipper of Castiel's coat. The younger boy hissed out a breath as the cool air passed through the material of his sweater, one of Dean's hands sliding away from his waist to grab the exposed slip of his boxers, his jeans riding low.

"Put on your big boy boxers, and throw a punch or two." He annunciated his point by dragging the tight elastic waistband away from the younger boy's body before letting it snap back into place. Castiel let out a sound similar to a snarl, tugging sharply on the short hairs woven between his fingers. Dean retaliated with a sharp bite at the base of his neck.

"I'll never win a fight," Castiel panted, tugging harshly at his boyfriend's hair until he finally looked up. Dean simply stared a moment before he grinned, and Castiel gasped as the older boy suddenly bowed his head and sucked hard on Castiel's Adam-apple for a measureless amount of time. Castiel's breathing sped, his eyes falling closed; the feeling was strangely addictive, and he almost whined as Dean pulled away.

"You don't have to win- just make sure you're not the only one who goes home with a bruise." Dean whispered, smirking. He surprised Castiel then by stepping away, letting the younger boy stand on shaky legs and rely on the alley wall for support. Staring at the ground, Castiel willed his blush away and worked on catching his breath as he reached to probe his neck with shaking fingers, only to find several tender spots.

Castiel couldn't help his smile upon realizing Dean's challenge to fight back was painted across his skin in a series of purple love-bites.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter : 08

December rolled in with little activity, Anna and Gabriel returning to their respective schools while Castiel worked to avoid provoking his brothers or his mother into violence. For almost a month the youngest Novak boy kept a low profile, dedicating himself to school and a recently obtained job at the local grocery store. The last week had been miserable though; Sam and Dean were away on a trip with their father, and Castiel was stuck in bed with a nasty case of the flu.

For several days now he had been buried beneath the blankets of his bed, a box of tissues and a bottle of liquid Nyquil resting nearby. Standing was such a dizzying act that he hadn't bothered to get up and put his contacts in for almost three days now; instead, he grabbed his old glasses from the nightstand drawer and fit them on to his face for the sole purpose of watching television.

Sinking lower into his cocoon of blankets, Castiel closed his eyes and pressed his face into a nearby pillow. He would kill to have Dean's warm body pressed against his right now, he thought, the blankets simply weren't keeping any kind of heat. The frame of his glasses pressed hard against the bridge of his nose and his lashes brushed the lenses as they fluttered open to stare at the fibers of the pillow case.

"You look absolutely miserable, Cas," Castiel rolled over and came to face the younger Winchester sibling where he was standing on the balcony, the doors - which Castiel swore had locked - thrown wide open. Despite his gangly frame, he was quite graceful as he slid into the room, closing the doors silently behind himself, and took two quick strides towards Castiel's bed.

"Don't, Sam," Castiel sniffled, waving the younger boy back. "You'll get sick."

Sam came to an obedient stop a safe distance away, burying his hands in the pockets of his coat and toeing the carpet as he watched Castiel struggle to sit up, straightening his ruffled clothes and coughing into the crook of his elbow before finally asking "What're you doing here? I thought you were on a trip with your dad,"

"Since your phone's broken and I couldn't get in touch with you, I decided to come make sure you were okay," Sam shrugged, turning to examine a series of glass bottles resting on Castiel's bookshelf. "What're these?"

"So what you're saying is Dean sent you over?" Castiel translated, watching as Sam lifted one of the bottles and examined its contents with a raised eyebrow. Inside this particular bottle rested an acorn, a handful of feathers, and a tattered shoe lace.

"Yeah, he did," Sam muttered distractedly, setting one bottle down and reaching for another. "What are these, Cas?"

"It's something my father used to do. It's about the only habit of his that I remember, so I like to keep it alive." Castiel shrugged, smiling faintly as Sam retrieved one of the empty bottles at the end of a row.

"Why is this one empty?" He tossed the glass container idly from hand to hand, his eyes scanning the rest of the bottles on the shelf.

"I haven't decided who it belongs to," Castiel answered.

"What do you mean?" Sam pushed, and Castiel couldn't help but chuckle. Sam Winchester was not a born genius, as Dean often tried to call him; he was simply curious, and his curiosity lead him to seek out answers to any and every problem that presented itself.

"Each bottle belongs to someone," Castiel explained, slowly climbing to his feet. He remained stationary for a moment, letting the wave of dizziness roll over and passed him before he shuffled forward and took the bottle Sam had previously grabbed off the shelf.

"For example, this bottle belongs to my sister, Anna." He tapped his fingernails against the glass with a shy smile. "There are feathers because when I was seven she helped me save a nest of birds from a cat. An acorn that she gave me when I was eleven, and a shoelace because she taught me how to tie my shoes."

Sam smiled, watching as Castiel replaced the bottle and buried his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Setting the empty bottle aside, Sam motioned to the last glass on the left.

"Who does this one belong to? It's got a lot more in it than the rest," Castiel flinched as he spared this bottle a fleeting glance, quickly lowering his eyes.

"Balthazar." He muttered, choking around the sudden lump in his throat.

"That's an odd name," Sam mused.

"Don't speak ill of the deceased, Sam. Especially not him," Castiel immediately scolded, his eyes flashing dangerously. Sam back pedaled, realizing he'd hit a nerve.

"Have you always kept a bottle for people you're close to?" He asked, offering an apologetic smile as pension for his mistake.

"Ever since I can remember," Castiel nodded, sitting heavily on the edge of his bed.

"Do I have a bottle?" Sam grinned, obviously teasing.

"The empty one is yours, if you'd like it." Castiel offered. A look akin to disbelief flashed across Sam's face, and the younger boy almost dropped the fragile item in his hands.

"I was just kidding, Cas- you don't have to-,"

"Nonsense," Castiel waved him off with a tired smile. "I've been meaning to make one for you and Dean both."

"Dean won't let you make him one, Cas," Sam scoffed. "He's really weird about having sentimental monuments in his name,"

"Well Dean simply has to deal," Castiel shrugged, knowing he could persuade Dean if push came to shove; after all, Dean had been the one who challenged him to fight back against the more dominant forces in his life. "It's wonderful to see you, Sam, but... Why didn't Dean come with you?"

"Well he was in the truck with dad. I was driving the Impala, and I dropped by here. I haven't been home yet,"

"You were driving? You're fourteen, Sam!" Castiel scolded. He would have glared at the younger boy if all this talking wasn't draining his batteries; this flu was really taking it out of him.

"Dean couldn't drive and we couldn't leave the truck," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes as he flopped down in an armchair near the balcony doors.

"Why couldn't Dean drive?" Castiel questioned. Sam shrugged, becoming very interested on a spot in the carpet. "Sam, why couldn't Dean drive?"

"He just got a little messed up while we were gone." Sam muttered, playing with the hem of his shirt.

"Define messed up," Castiel glared, his heart stuttering out an uneven rhythm.

"He broke his leg and fractured a few ribs; hit his head pretty hard, too..." Castiel's heart sank, imagining how much pain Dean might be in and wondering what on Earth the Winchester's could have been doing that left Dean so broken.

"I want to go see him," Castiel decided, standing and grabbing for the corner of his dresser as his head spun. Sam was up in an instant, catching his waist and helping him to stand.

"Cas, you look like shit. I don't think you should go anywhere," Sam frowned, slowly loosening his hold until Castiel was standing alone on shaky knees.

"Sam, if someone told you that you're girlfriend was injured, what would you do?" Castiel prompted, grabbing a clean pair of clothes from the drawer and shuffling towards the bathroom.

"I'd go see her," Sam grudgingly admitted, and Castiel simply smiled as he stepped into the bathroom and swung the door closed behind himself.

Castiel was quick to shower, scrubbing away three days worth of grime and brushing his teeth hard enough to make his gums ache. He slipped into a pair of clean boxers and jeans and tugged his shirt over his head, the high school mascot printed in bold red and white on the black fabric. He once more ignored his contacts, in too much of a hurry to deal with them at the present moment, and slid his glasses on; the frame was askew as he stepped back into the bedroom to find Sam flipping through a paper back as he leaned against the dresser.

"Since when have you worn glasses?" Sam questioned, placing the book back on the bookshelf as he moved towards the window.

"I've had trouble with my eyesight since I was seven," Castiel shrugged, grabbing his coat, scarf, and beanie from their place hanging on the back of his closet door. "I prefer contacts, but I don't have the patience to put them in right now."

"Understandable," Sam nodded, opening the balcony doors. Castiel shuddered as the cool air flooded the room, hurrying to shrug on his coat and wind the scarf tightly around the lower portion of his face. He then slipped the beanie on, protecting his wet hair from the icy conditions.

"We're going to have to walk a bit to get to the Impala. I parked it at the end of the drive way," Sam frowned apologetically, hauling himself over the balcony railing. Castiel watched carefully, expecting him to climb his way down, and let out a short yell of terror as Sam released his hold and dropped gracefully three floors down. The younger boy hit the ground and rolled before shooting straight up and brushing the snow off his clothes, motioning Castiel to follow with a grin.

"Sam, I can't do that!"

"It's easy, Cas!" Sam called up. "Just bend your knees and tuck your head. Gravity will roll you,"

"I am not jumping!"

"Guess you won't see Dean, then."

"_Sam_!"

"Just jump, Cas!"

Castiel huffed out an irritated breath, which quickly turned into a rasping cough as the sound caught in his throat. He tried desperately to breathe in through his nose, but the effort was in vain. He knew that prancing around in the snow was not the wisest of decisions given his state of health; just moving too quickly left him light headed, and simply showering had left him running low on energy. He had to wonder what jumping from a third story balcony would elicit from his weary body.

Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that he was doing this for Dean; where Dean was involved, sense should not be. Careful not to look down, he swung one leg and then the other over the railing and slotted his feet in between the bars. It was one quick jump backwards, right? He would watch the ground, bend his knees, and be graceful in his landing. Maybe landing gracefully was a false part of the equation- Castiel was a born klutz.

As long as Sam didn't see the terror in his face though, he should walk away with at least his dignity intact- or so he hoped. Staring wearily at the snow bank he should land in, Castiel nervously slid his feet out from between the bars of the balcony rail and took a calming breath before letting go.

For a brief moment, his stomach dropped and he was afraid he might scream; the cool air whipped at his face, his scarf slapping against his forehead and blinding him. The tails of his coat flew out around him in a tan halo, and his arms shot out as if they would help to balance his fall.

In his mind, Castiel could see a painting that his mother had taken off the foyer wall a few months before; an angel, falling from Heaven, arms spread wide and robes flying out behind him in a sea of white. For a brief moment, Castiel told himself he was that angel- then, at the last moment, he bent his knees and hit the ground in a surprisingly graceful crouch, one palm pressed to the snow and the other still stretched out at his side to provide balance.

"And you're sure you've never done that before?" Sam gaped, eyes wide as Castiel stood and turned to him with a dizzy grin; his head was spinning, his knees shaking, but the adrenaline covered most of the pain from the actual landing. He knew there would be pain later, though; if he thought his back had been aching earlier in the day, he was most likely in for a rude awakening.

"Never," Castiel confirmed, still smiling as he tugged his coat tighter around himself and stood. Sam's expression was almost reverent, reminding Castiel once more of the old painting of the angel.

"Never do that in front of Dean," Sam surprised him with the sudden warning, turning on his heel and starting down the drive way.

"What? Why?" He demanded, hurrying after the younger boy and coughing roughly into his elbow as the adrenaline slowly began to leave his body. The shivers and the constant cold flooded back through his system, his hands shaking where they were tucked in his pockets and the constant itch in the back of his throat reminding him of its presence.

"I don't want to walk in on you two.. Not ever again." Sam made a face as Castiel caught up to him, eyebrows furrowing with worry as Castiel fought to suppress his coughing. "And Dean would probably rape you if he saw that."

"It wasn't that impressive," Castiel dug in the pocket of his coat, hoping to come away with a cough drop; nothing.

"Cas, you just jumped three floors down and landed in a crouch without breaking your knees, which shouldn't be physically possible. You didn't even make a sound when you hit the ground, either. Your coat sort of snapped, but that was it." Sam pointed out. "Dean finds things like that to be sexy,"

"Well, your brother is quite strange." Castiel blushed, keeping pace with Sam as they moved down the driveway.

"You're the one dating him," Sam shrugged, grinning.

The boys then fell into comfortable silence, their steps crunching loudly in the snow underneath them until they reached the Impala. The car took a while to warm-up, and Sam refused to let Castiel drive; the older teenager was coughing in violent fits, his body shivering uncontrollably while Sam seemed almost unfazed by the weather.

The drive was quick and smooth – Sam was incredibly experienced as far as fourteen year old drivers went – and before the car had actually managed to warm entirely, they were parked outside the ramshackle house of the Winchester's. There was a large black truck in the driveway that Castiel was unfamiliar with, the massive vehicle still running as he and Sam stepped out of the car.

"Come on," Sam rushed, motioning Castiel to follow. The older boy did as he was told in silence, thinking of the last time he'd been here; Dean's hand, warm in his, and a smile on both their faces. A far different feeling sat in Castiel's gut now; something cold and uninviting was gnawing at him.

"Wait here," Sam ordered as they stepped into the small living room, both boys toeing their shoes off and setting them near the door. Castiel buried his hands in the pockets of his coat and propped himself on the edge of the couch; true to Dean's word, the TV had never quit running on its mute setting across the room.

The house was still, all lights dormant except a flickering bulb in the hall. Sam had disappeared into his and Dean's joint bedroom, but there was no sound coming from the area. The silence made Castiel uneasy and he climbed to his feet, busying himself with tidying the coffee table in the room; aligning all the void beer bottles and stacking several empty take-out boxes, careful not to disrupt what looked to be a game of cards. Now done with the only available tasks in the room, he simply turned to gaze out the small window in the room and tried not to be bothered by the unwelcoming nature of the home.

He was just managing to relax himself when a sudden shout brought him out of his thoughts, and the sound of a gunshot resonated through the house.

xXxXx

Sorry to leave you all hanging! Just as our little Cassie is sick, I myself have a really nasty virus that is slowly turning into a sinus infection, which means more writing - _yay_! - and less time to wait before the new chapter - _double yay_!

Now, I'm aware that Winchester Winter is not, nor will it ever be, one of the _Twist and Shout _'s in the Destiel Fan-Fiction community (if you haven't read T&S, you should; it's really_** really**_ sad at the end though) but I do want it to be good quality, and to be enjoyable for anyone who stumbles across it!

So, on that note, I just want to give a huge thank you to anyone who gives (or has given) me feedback of any kind! I am so appreciative of all the people leaving comments asking for more or just something saying they enjoyed the chapter!

**_Go back to looking for Destiel smut, you sexy people!_** - CCW


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter : 09

Balthazar Cahlwell died at the age of fifteen from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Castiel Novak, fourteen at the time, was listed on the police report as the only witness of the suicide; he was with Balthazar when the teenager shot himself, and he stayed with him until his body was cremated three days later.

Castiel had been close enough when the shot was fired that he was temporarily deafened, giving him an excuse not to speak with the police for at least a day; by the time his hearing returned though, he had made a decision to keep the real events of that night between him and the parties involved. Because Castiel knew Balthazar Cahlwell didn't kill himself, but it was a secret he would have to take to his grave.

The sound of a gun had always haunted him – always thrown a bloody image up behind his eyelids, and put a knot in his throat. When the gun went off in the Winchester house, the experience was different in only one way; he screamed for Dean.

It had been a flurry of activity after that, Sam bursting out of the bedroom and ordering Castiel to get in the Impala _right now_ and the sound of struggle coming from the other room. He had listened to orders, casting glances over his shoulder, until Sam pulled out onto the slippery road with tires screeching and brow furrowed.

Now, standing in the emergency room of the local hospital, he couldn't find the voice to even whisper. His whole body was trembling with cold and worry, and Sam was no better beside him. The youngest member of the Winchester family was pacing in an endless circle, his jaw ticking nervously as he combed his fingers through his hair.

Words such as 'suicide' and 'unstable' had been passed from nurse to nurse as Castiel strained to listen, his glasses slipping low on the bridge of his nose and his sweater crooked. He was physically exhausted and on the brink of a mental break down when a bulky man came around the corner and Sam froze.

"Dad," He rushed over to the large man and Castiel remained where he was against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around himself as he shivered. The oldest Winchester was a man with a serious face, and dark features; his style of dress and graceful way of movement was similar to Dean's, but his facial construct and dark hair was closer to that of Sam.

"Hey, kiddo," The older man sighed, ruffling Sam's hair as the young teenager got closer.

"Is he okay?" Sam worried, his eyebrows creased as he smoothed his hair back into place.

"Nurse is getting him ready to go- says he can come home tonight if we keep an eye on him, make sure his fever doesn't spike again." Father Winchester nodded, lowering himself into a nearby chair with a low groan.

"He's been asking for you- wanted to say sorry for scaring you," Father told son, and Sam laughed weakly.

"He didn't scare _me_," Sam said, glancing towards Castiel, his implications clear. His father didn't seem to notice – Castiel wasn't even sure that he had been made aware that someone beside his sons was in the house when the shot was made.

Neither of the Winchester men noticed Dean, where he was slowly limping his way down the hallway; Castiel zoned in on him, his eyes taking in the battered state of his boyfriend's body. There was a black boot on his left foot, a bandage on his forehead, and a few scrapes on his face; he walked stiffly, as if every step hurt, and winced as his eyes landed on Sam.

"Sam," He called weakly, and Castiel flinched at the raspy sound of his voice. Sam's head snapped to the side so quickly Castiel was afraid he'd get whiplash, and almost instantly he was rushing to throw his arms around Dean and bury his face in the older man's shirt- though Dean insisted Sam was growing an inch every week, the younger boy was still no taller than Dean's shoulder.

Any sign of pain was hidden in the crease of Dean's eyebrows as he held his younger sibling close, kissing the top of his head; tears were in his eyes as Castiel heard him whisper a soft "'M sorry, Sammy." Sam let out a sound much like a sob, his body shaking in Dean's arms. "So sorry, little brother,"

Castiel had no intention of interrupting the moment, in fact he intended to slip away and get rid of his relieved tears before Dean could see, but as soon he took a step forward both Dean and his father had their eyes on him. Surprise flashed across Dean's face and confusion across his fathers, but before Castiel could say a word Dean had gently released his baby brother and was reaching for his boyfriend.

Castiel went into the older man's embrace willingly, hiding his face in the collar of Dean's coat, his glasses squashed painfully against his face. He choked on a sob as Dean's strong arms came around him; one large palm rested flat against the small of his back, the other warm against the back of his neck. The familiar smell of Dean flooded his nostrils and Castiel grabbed fistfuls of the back of his coat, his grip white-knuckled as he cried into the larger man's shoulder.

"Shh," Dean buried his face in Castiel's hair, sounding older and more tired than Castiel had ever heard him. "'S okay, baby. Everything's okay now,"

"I-I heard the gun… Dean, I th-thought-," Castiel choked, unable to finish, and Dean simply pulled him closer, his fingers sifting comfortingly through the hairs on the back of Castiel's neck.

"Everything's okay, Cas," Dean whispered, closing the subject, and Castiel nodded shakily as Dean kissed his temple ever so gently and released him. Castiel stepped back to stand beside Sam, pulling his glasses off and wiping at his eyes as Sam tried to hide the fact that he too was in tears.

"Dean," The oldest Winchester greeted his son with a nod and a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"Sir," Dean nodded, his eyes hard and cold. It was obvious he was in massive amounts of pain, but he was doing his damndest to hide it.

"Who's your friend?" Castiel stiffened, cleaning his glasses nervously with the tail of his sweater and sliding them back on in time to see Dean motioning towards him.

"Cas, this is my father, John Winchester. Dad, this is Castiel Novak. He's the one who keeps up with Sam's work when we're… On a trip," Something about the words 'on a trip' didn't sound right to Castiel's ears, but he ignored it as he extended a shaking hand.

"It's nice to meet you, sir." John looked at his hand with distaste and Castiel let it fall, swallowing thickly.

"Are you one of Christian Novak's boys?" John asked gruffly.

"Yes, sir," Castiel nodded.

"Last I heard of him, he only had four sons- Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, and Jonathon. When'd you come along?"

"Jonathon is my first name, sir." Castiel shifted uncomfortably on his feet, playing nervously with the hem of his sweater.

"Could've guessed," John snorted, burying his hands in his pockets.

"E-Excuse me?" Castiel stuttered, at the same time Dean issued a low warning of "_Dad_."

"I used to know your daddy. I saw you once or twice as a baby- you still look thin and sickly like you did back then," John stated bluntly.

Castiel's mouth opened, and then closed with a small snap; not only was he insulted by this man's rude words, but he was baffled by the idea that his boyfriend's father had been friends with his own father at one time. How was that possible? The Winchesters had just arrived in town a little over three months ago.

"Don't worry about coming off as an asshole, Dad," Sam rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sam," Dean scolded, sounding tired as he rubbed absentmindedly at his side. "Watch your mouth."

"Why? Cas has the flu, but that doesn't mean he has the right to tell him he looks like crap," Sam argued, jaw set stubbornly.

"Sam," Dean's expression was pleading.

"It's alright, Sam," Castiel assured the younger sibling, offering a weak smile. "I can fend for myself just fine. Besides, your father is right; I was sick for much of my infancy,"

"You were a homo too, last time I checked." John spoke up and Castiel stiffened, watching as Dean did the same where he stood behind his father.

"I am gay, if that is what you are applying." Castiel announced, surprised at himself; in most situation like this, he would have run away or cowered at such a degrading word. Instead, he was standing his ground.

"It is," John glared. "And I don't see how that's something to be proud of, boy."

"I don't see why it's shameful to love someone for who they are, rather than what they have in their jeans." Castiel replied calmly; though he did believe his mother when she said that homosexuality was a sin, and that he was born to go to Hell, his personal philosophy on homosexuality was exactly as he had said.

"Well," John stepped closer, eyeing Castiel for a long time. The younger boy held his breath, swallowing loud and hard when John suddenly broke into a cheerful smile. "Anyone who can respond that eloquently to stupid ignorance is fit to date my son,"

"Wh-What?" Castiel stuttered, stunned as John chuckled.

"Son, I've got two bi-sexual children. There is no reason for me to be upset about that- just means I raised 'em to love people a little too much," John shrugged, clapping Castiel warmly on the shoulder as he headed towards the exit. "Now, I'm gonna head home. You boys think you can handle getting Dean home in one piece?"

"Yes sir," Sam muttered, and Castiel nodded slowly. John smiled, giving Dean a stern order to take it easy, and disappeared around the corner.

"Sam… is bi-sexual?" Castiel turned to the younger Winchester with a surprised expression and the younger boy blushed.

"I've only had one boyfriend," He mumbled, playing with his hands. Castiel glanced at Dean, staring blankly at the older man's splitting grin as he hobbled forward and kissed Castiel's pale cheek.

"Does he do that to all of your boyfriends and girlfriends?" Castiel whispered weakly, searching Dean's face expectantly.

"No, I was as surprised as you were- you're the first boyfriend of mine that he's met. He's lucky he stopped when he did, though." Dean sighed, leaning heavily on Castiel for support as the younger boy slid an arm around his waist.

"Why's that?" Castiel questioned, rubbing gentle circles on Dean's hip as Sam motioned them to follow him down the corridor.

"I was about to kill him for saying those things to you," Dean grumbled moving slowly alongside Castiel. The younger boy kept pace with his injured companion, trying his best to support some of Dean's weight as they slowly moved down the hall. Castiel didn't respond to Dean's words, simply watched their feet as the two walked.

"Cas, c'mon. That was supposed to make you smile, at least." Dean sighed as they reached the elevator and Castiel stepped away from Dean to hit the button and summon an elevator going down.

"I'm not in a humorous mood, Dean." Castiel sighed, leaning against the wall and pushing his glasses up to rest on top of his head, rubbing at his eyes. He was ill, exhausted, confused by the news that John Winchester knew his father, and sick to his stomach with the knowledge that his boyfriend had tried to kill himself a few hours previously.

"Hey," Strong hands, callused from long days of working, encircled his wrists and pulled them gently away from his eyes. "Cas, everything's fine, okay? Why are you still so stressed out?"

"You just tried to _kill yourself_, Dean! That is not a problem that simply goes away after a trip to the hospital," Castiel pulled his wrists out of the older boys grip, swallowing hard as the ding of the elevator sounded and the doors slid open. He stepped into the small space, holding the door and lowering his eyes to the floor as Dean limped inside.

"Cas, I had a fever of one hundred and four and a gun under my pillow. I was delusional with pain, and I was seeing things… It wasn't myself I was trying to kill." He muttered, his voice too loud in the small space.

"Then who were you trying to kill, Dean?" Castiel sighed, massaging his temples.

"I told you- not myself," Dean answered, wincing as he rubbed at his side. Sam had mentioned broken ribs- was that what was bothering him?

"Dean, who?"

"It doesn't matter." Dean insisted.

"_It does to_ _me_!" Castiel surprised himself with his near shout, and Dean blinked in obvious shock himself. "Dean, do you know how scared I was when I heard that gun go off? How many different things went through my mind when Sam said that you were the one who fired the gun, and the nurses kept whispering that it was an attempted suicide? You cannot even come close to comprehending how terrified I was- how terrified I still am,"

Dean stared at him, hazel eyes so bright and glassy that Castiel could see his reflection in them. His skin was a pale yellow, his eyes rimmed red and his nose puffy with sickness, his eyes blue and fever lit. His hair was in disarray, his glasses resting atop his head in a crooked manner; he looked like a mad man.

"I didn't try to kill myself." Dean stated again, and just as Castiel opened his mouth with the intention of ripping Dean a new one, Dean continued. "I tried to kill Sam."

"Dean, I didn't… But Sam said…" Castiel couldn't find the words to explain the shame of his explosion, or the to apologize for the pain in Dean's eyes. Dean seemed to grasp them easily, though.

"Sam was trying to protect me. If the scrubs knew I had taken a shot at him, I'd be playing patty-cake against a padded wall right now." Dean explained as the elevator doors opened up on the ground floor and Castiel allowed Dean to limp into the hallway before following closely behind. "But I need someone with me tonight- someone to make sure I don't try to hurt him again, because God knows Dad will be too drunk to care."

"Dean, I have no doubt my mother already knows that I'm missing." Castiel sighed, pulling Dean to a stop before he could leave the building. "And I'm sick- I have no intentions of giving you the flu on top of everything. Staying the night… Simply isn't an option,"

Dean's face fell, disappointment clear in the stiff muscles of his shoulders and the steady ticking of his jaw. Castiel reached out and straightened the collar of the older boy's shirt, brushing his fingers gently over the exposed skin of his neck and watching at a tendon in Dean's neck strained under the skin.

"I'm afraid I'll hurt him, Cas," Castiel looked up, surprised by the tremor in Dean's voice. The older boy, always so stone-like even in his gentler moments, was near to tears. "I'm afraid I'm going to relax for just one second, and that fever's going to take over… A-And I'm going to do something I can never forgive myself for,"

"Dean," Castiel wiped the one tear that had managed to escape off Dean's cheeks, running his thumb gently over the scratched and bruised skin of his boyfriend's skin. "Why would you have any reason to hurt Sam?"

"He… I… God," Dean dropped his head into his hands, rubbing harshly at his eyes, and Castiel waited patiently for him to get the words out. "Our mom died in his nursery, when he was just a baby- she was killed there, and… Sometimes, when I look at him… All I can think of is the dem- the _person _who killed her," He struggled to get out the word person, his teeth grinding uneasily.

"That doesn't give you a reason to hurt Sam." Castiel muttered, quietly drawing a pattern on Dean's elbow as the older boy hid behind his hands.

"It gives me every reason, Cas," Dean laughed without humor, pushing the heels of his hands harshly into his eyes. "Do you know what I saw when I shot at him? I saw… I saw that bastard, standing over me, and… It was Sammy's voice, but it just wasn't him…"

Castiel had never heard about Dean's mother, other than the news that she had died when he was four. The knowledge that she was killed – in Sam's nursery, of all places – was new and startling. Dean's obvious attachment to the deceased woman, and the pent up anger towards her killer was also frightening- but it was something Castiel could understand.

"Dean," Castiel gently coaxed the older boy to come to meet his eyes. "You didn't hurt Sam, and that's all that matters. And if you feel like my presence will prevent that from happening in the future… Then I suppose I'll have to stay the night at your house,"

"I don't want your mom to get upset with you," Dean argued half-heartedly, but the relief in his eyes was that of a drowning man at sea who had just been offered an inflatable raft.

"She's not my concern- you are," Castiel offered a reassuring smile, kissing Dean's cheek just as Sam came striding through the door, fat flakes of snow caught in his hair.

"The car's warm. You two coming?" He asked cheerfully.

"Sure are, Sammy boy. Let's make a pit stop for some comfort food on the way home," Every emotion previously exposed melted away, pooling deep in Dean's eyes; all that remained on his face was the usual overabundance of confidence and a hint of affection as he slung an arm around his younger brother's shoulders and hobbled towards the exit.

Castiel followed close behind the two, watching as Dean spoke affectionately with his younger brother and Sam replied with an equal amount of admiration. The two were as thick as thieves and Castiel could understand Dean's panic at the idea that he might hurt Sam; Sam was his best friend, practically his son.

"C'mon, Cas," Dean called over his shoulder, extending an open hand towards him. Castiel hurried to catch up, ignoring his exhaustion and his many questions, and took Dean's offered hand; for now, this was enough to get him through the rest of the night.

xXxXx

You all are _**amazing**_! Thank you for all the feedback - just because you're such sweeties, I posted this for you. Let you know what happened with the shooting, and a little bit of a teaser on the Balthazar event... ; )

Also, look on my bio for the Supernatural video of the week! I think I posted a Destiel one, too!

-CCW


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter : 10**

Dean had a minor head injury, acute pneumonia, a minor posterior malleolus fracture in his ankle, and more bruises and scratches than Castiel could count. The poor teenager was in so much pain by the time they'd stopped for food that Castiel had simply run in and grabbed what he asked for before they returned to the Winchester household. Sam and Castiel practically had to carry Dean to his bed at that point. He sank down in the mattress, eyes already closed, and fell quickly asleep while Castiel perched protectively on the edge of the mattress beside him and watched Sam go about tidying their joint bedroom.

The room was in disarray, most likely from the struggle Sam had described between John and Dean after the gun went off. Sam's usually neat stack of books was scattered, Dean's boxed possessions thrown every which way and his cassette tapes spilled haphazardly across the floor. There was a hole in the wall near the window and Castiel stiffened when he realized that this was where the bullet the nurses believed Dean had meant to implant in his own skull, and Castiel knew was really meant for Sam, had ended up.

"I'll go get the food out of the car," Sam sighed, giving up on his attempt at straightening his books and moving towards the door.

"Sam," Castiel called, and the younger boy stopped in the doorway to look at him. "Why did Dean have a gun under his pillow?"

This, among many other questions, had been pressing Castiel's mind since he left the hospital. There were so many things about the situation that didn't make sense- how could a family trip leave Dean so battered? Why was Sam a capable driver at the age of fourteen? Why did Dean think their father would be too drunk to protect Sam? Most importantly – why did eighteen year old Dean Winchester sleep with a gun under his pillow?

Sam stalled, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he decided upon shrugging and quickly moving down the hallway. Castiel sighed, putting his head in his hands and massaging his throbbing temples.

For the first time since he'd left his house that evening, Castiel was reminded of just how sick he was; his whole body was aching, his back greatly protesting his idea to jump off his balcony, and he could no longer breathe out of his nose. He had been coughing, though he hardly noticed it, and his face and neck felt swollen. He was running on fumes as far as energy went; simply blinking was a struggle at this point.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he leaned back against the headboard of his boyfriend's bed and reminded himself that sleep was not an option; he'd promised Dean that he would watch over Sam, so watch over Sam he would.

As if the sleeping boy beside him knew Castiel needed some form of comfort, Dean turned his head fractionally and let the bridge of his nose rest against Castiel's jean-clad hip. The younger boy smiled faintly, combing a soothing hand through the sleeping man's hair and receiving a sleepy mummer of content as a reward.

Dean was peaceful when he slept, Castiel noticed; though his body was still stiff with pain, his face was relaxed. The usual cocky mask had slipped away, revealing the dangerously vulnerable and shockingly handsome man below. Brushing his fingers over a scratch on Dean's cheek, Castiel contented himself with counting the older man's freckles in a comforting silence.

"You want some soup?" Castiel glanced up as Sam moved into the room some time later, balancing two bowls of steaming liquid in his hands. Castiel nodded thankfully and took the offered meal, setting it in his laps and welcoming the warmth seeping through the plastic bowl, past his jeans, and onto the skin of his thighs. Large chunks of chicken, fat noodles, mushrooms, and carrots floated in a yellowish broth inside the bowl. Castiel took a cautious spoonful and resisted the urge to moan as the warm liquid rushed down his throat, soothing the ache there.

"Sorry there are so many mushrooms," Sam said as he sat on the edge of his own bed and swallowed a hearty spoonful. "Dean hates chicken, so when he gets sick I load it with mushrooms and carrots so he'll actually eat it."

"You made this?" Castiel questioned as he blew on the steaming liquid; hot was nice, but he didn't want to burn his tongue.

"Yep," Sam nodded. "I'm the cook in the house- Dad's not very good at cooking, but Dean is a master at burning butter." Both boys chuckled at this, glancing at the sleeping boy.

They fell into silence then, Sam shoveling down the soup like it was his last meal – both Winchester boys ate fast, Castiel had noticed – and Castiel savoring the soothing nature of the liquid on his throat. Dean stirred once or twice as they ate, muttering in his sleep here and there, sometimes nuzzling Castiel's hip like a content pet.

"We don't usually go to hospital... Our dad is a marine," Sam spoke up as Castiel set his now empty bowl on the small table between the two beds. "Well, he was in Vietnam; he can patch someone up just fine if they've got a flesh wound, but he can't handle a fever…. That was mom's job, when she was around; she always took care of Dean when he was sick, and after she died... Dean started taking care of me and Dad." He paused a moment, studying his hands before he continued.

"When mom died, dad went a little… stir-crazy, I guess. He, um… He started working weird jobs and stuff, which is why we move around so much. But, uh… He makes us both sleep with a gun under our pillow, because he thinks the guy who killed our mom might still be after us." To demonstrate his point, Sam reached under his pillow and produced a small handgun before sliding it back into its hiding place.

"How long has this been going on?" Castiel whispered, head reeling.

"I was six months old, Dean was four." Sam shrugged, collecting the empty soup bowls. He left the room and returned a few moments later with two bottles of medication, tossing them both to Castiel; the older boy caught them with clumsy hands, reading over the labels.

"Hospital sent Dean home with some pain killers," Sam kicked off his shoes, speaking in between yawns. "The other bottle is just plain old Tylenol- you look like you could use it."

"Thanks," Castiel murmured, watching as Sam grabbed a clean t-shirt from the single dresser in the room and laid it neatly on the bed before toeing out of his socks.

"Don't mention it," Sam replied with a sleepy smile as he stepped out of his jeans and tugged his shirt off over his head. Castiel blanched when Sam's naked torso came into view, sucking in a sharp breath of surprise.

There were four long scratches down the freshman's back, beginning at his left shoulder blade and ending near his right hip. His chest and left side were painted with bruises and several scars gleamed in the dim lighting of the room. Sam tensed, quickly pulling the clean t-shirt on and clambering under the sheets before Castiel could ask questions.

Castiel simply sat in stunned silence, listening as the sound of the young boys breathing depend and slowed into the familiar pattern of sleep. He glanced down at Dean, snoring softly with his face pressed into Castiel's jeans, and wondered if his torso was in similar shape. Granted Castiel had seen Dean in nothing more than a pair of well-fitting boxers, he couldn't remember any scars; then again, he had been quite distracted at that point in time.

Biting his lip, Castiel fingered the hem of Dean's shirt as he slept; did he really want to violate the sleeping boy for the simple purpose of satisfying his own curiosity? The answer seemed to be yes seeing as his fingers were pulling gently on the material without his consent, revealing first a sliver of well tanned stomach and then with a few more gentle tugs a very muscular chest.

Just as Castiel had expected, Dean's skin was layered with scars he had never noticed. Unlike Sam's, his were all jagged angles and puckered skin; several of the scars seemed to be freshly healed, still a fleshy pink as opposed to the other faded apricot marks. There was a fresh cut just above his collarbone, and a series of nasty bruises on his right side. It was the side he'd been massaging in the hospital, Castiel noted; the ribs may not be broken, but they were quite obviously bruised.

"If you wanted to undress me all you had to do was ask," Castiel startled at the sound of Dean's voice, tearing his eyes away from his boyfriends damaged torso to look at his face.

Dean's eyes were open to lazy hazel slits, glazed over with pain and - after confirming it with a quick hand to Dean's forehead - a raging fever. Sweat had beaded on the older man's brow, and he was breathing heavily despite his stationary position. He coughed, the sound wet with fluid, and Castiel brushed a soothing hand over his cheek.

"Can you take your shirt off? Maybe your jeans, too? It'll help you cool off," He tried and Dean nodded weakly, struggling to sit up and biting his lip hard enough that Castiel swore he saw blood. The older boy tugged his shirt slowly over his head, hissing out a breath through his teeth as he tossed the fabric off the bed and rubbed gingerly at his bruised ribs as he laid back down.

"Hand me the Walkman?" He grumbled weakly as he popped the button on his jeans and lifted his hips just enough to shuck them down to his knees. Castiel stood, searching the cluttered floor until he noticed the familiar cassette player near the foot of the bed and handed it to his boyfriend. Dean took it with a thankful smile and motioned towards his jeans where they were pooled around his knees, his expression questioning.

Castiel nodded in silent understanding, gingerly pulling the pants off over the black boot bracing Dean's injured ankle and folding the denim neatly before setting it on the floor. Dean was busy untangling his headphones so Castiel took the moment to escape the room and fill a glass of water in the kitchen. Dean was still busy with the headphones when he returned, setting the water on the small table between Sam and Dean's beds and grabbing the bottle of medication resting there.

After reading the instructions, Castiel dumped two of the large tablets into his palm and ordered Dean to sit up. Setting the Walkman and his headphones aside, the older boy did as he was told without complaint, though it was obvious by his puckered lips and furrowed brow that the motion caused him pain.

"These will help," Castiel murmured, dropping the medication into Dean's callused palm and holding out the glass of water as the younger boy tossed the pills back and washed them down; the glass was empty when he passed it back to Castiel. He lowered himself back on to the mattress, knees slightly bent so his feet wouldn't dangle off the end of the small bed, and looked up at Castiel expectantly.

"How come I'm the only one naked?" Dean complained as Castiel set the empty glass aside and settled back against the headboard.

"You're not naked, Dean." Castiel rolled his eyes as the older boy tugged at the hem of his sweater.

"More naked than you," He grumbled, lifting Castiel's sweater and pressing a kiss to the boy's side. Castiel shivered at the light brush of his lips, glaring at the injured boy lying beside him.

"If I take my clothes off, will you shut up and go back to sleep?"

"The glasses got to go too, babe." Dean bargained.

"Dean, I can't see without them."

"You don't need to see when you're sleeping, and they make your eyes look weird." Dean said as Castiel sat up, pulling his sweater off over his head and exposing his pale flesh to the cool air of the room.

"I thought I was supposed to watch Sam," He frowned, standing and shucking out of his jeans. He folded both articles of clothing, setting them with Dean's jeans at the foot of the bed before perching himself on the edge of the mattress once more.

"I said you were here to make sure I didn't do anything to him," Dean corrected, taking hold of Castiel's arm and pulling until the younger boy was awkwardly lying down beside him, careful to avoid putting pressure on his bruised torso. "Which means I'm the one you're watching."

"Dean, really, this bed is too small for both of us to be sleeping in it." Castiel rolled his eyes as Dean grabbed the Walkman, putting the headphones in and pressing play on the device.

"You're not sleeping with Sam," Dean grumped, and Castiel froze in surprise as the older man rolled onto his uninjured side, draping an arm over Castiel's waist and tucking his head under the younger boys chin. "So suck it up and deal, four eyes."

"Wait to ruin the moment, Dean." Castiel chuckled, slipping his glasses off his face and setting them on the counter with the medicine and the empty glass. Dean laughed quietly, kissing Castiel's collarbone, and Castiel smiled to himself as he wrapped gentle arms around the exhausted boy and pressed his face into Dean's hair.

Inhaling a soothing breath, Castiel thought that he should have taken medicine to help with his own fever; he should have gone home rather than staying the night here. He shouldn't have gone with Sam this afternoon, and he shouldn't have accepted Dean's invitation to a relationship earlier in the year.

But, as he drifted off to the muffled sound of one of Dean's countless classic rock tapes, he really didn't regret a thing.

**xXxXx**

Castiel was on fire, he was sure of it.

A heavy weight was resting on his chest and flames were licking his skin anywhere this weight was settled, the ridiculous amount of heat dragging him out of a heavy sleep. He groaned, shoving weakly at the source of the flames and blinking open surprised eyes when the weight shoved back.

Dean was sprawled across the bed, limbs thrown out in every direction and body on top of Castiel's. The headphones of the Walkman were tangled between Castiel's wrist and Dean's fingers, and there was very… Excited, limb pressing into his thigh.

"Dean," He hissed urgently, shaking the sleeping boys shoulder. You would think that the raging fever and battered body would affect one's drive for sex, but no; this was Dean Winchester after all.

"Mm," The older man nuzzled Castiel's neck, warm breath brushing against Castiel's skin and double-knotting the already tight muscles in Castiel's stomach. "What?"

"Get off of me." Castiel ordered, afraid pushing the boy off would injure him further.

"Mm-mm," Dean shook his head petulantly, the hand that wasn't tangled with the cord of his headphones snaking up to knot itself in Castiel's hair. "'S not mornin' yet. Go back t'sleep,"

"Dean," He hissed, shaking the boy, but he had already drifted off again. A quick glance at the clock on the table between the beds told Castiel it was only two in the morning; it would be a long night.

So much for regretting nothing.

**xXxXx**

DOUBLE DIGITS! WOO! So, sorry this chapter is so short... And it was sorta despressing, so I added that bit at the end to cheer you all up! I LOVE YOU GUYS! -CCW


	11. Chapter 11

**WARNINGS:**

**There is mentions of sexual situations in this chapter. **

**No ****_actual_**** sex, though.**

**I know, you're disappointed, aren't you?**

**xXxXxXx**

**Chapter : 11**

Castiel was asleep on his feet, his eyes firmly closed and his chin resting in his palm. If it wasn't for the small bell over the door of _May's Groceries_, he would have slept on through the entrance of everyone who happened to blow through as the night dragged on. Taking the late night shift of Christmas Eve was something no one in their right mind wanted to do, which explained why it was Castiel was dozing off behind the check-out counter rather than the usual night-clerk.

The teenager didn't mind having a few extra bucks in his pocket, and Christmas was a holiday he had been spending alone in bed for the past four years, a bag of sweet-tart candy-canes within reach and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer playing over and over until he could recite every word of the film. After some debate, Castiel had decided that giving up his lonely Rudolph marathon for some spending money wasn't a terrible idea; plus, if he was careful, he could sneak a candy-cane or two in between customers.

The bell over the door made its noisy announcement and Castiel stood, rubbing at his tired eyes and stifling a yawn as a rowdy group of teenagers moved into the store and headed straight for the aisle loaded with candy and last minute stuffed-gifts. It was interesting, watching people scramble to buy stocking-stuffers and last minutes presents; procrastinators desperately trying to top off their last-minute piles.

Castiel was far from a last minute shopper himself; all of his gifts were bought and wrapped at least three days before Christmas Eve. He'd put presents for his siblings in the mail two days ago; Anna would receive a nice blouse and tights to match, whereas Gabriel had a box of candy and a new _Zippo_ lighter headed his way. Though his mother hardly acknowledged his presence, he'd also tucked a small gift under the tree for her. Sam and Dean also had gifts, which were tucked away in Castiel's employee locker right now; he planned to make a quick stop by the Winchester house-hold after his shift.

Merely thinking about Dean had Castiel's stomach flipping in happy and sad knots; the older boy had promised him a special gift for the holidays, and no matter how much he was pestered he simply wouldn't give up his secret. On the other hand, it had been almost a week since they'd seen each other; the winter holiday provided quite a problem as far as getting together went.

Since his trip to the hospital, Dean had been rather fast to heal; it took him a week to get over the pneumonia, and another week for all his bruises to fade, and his injured ankle was healing incredibly well. Actually, if he wasn't moving around too much, he was allowed to take the boot off.

Fast to heal didn't mean that his mood was pleasant, though; he had actually been quite grouchy, snapping at anyone who tried to help him around the house or offered to do something for him. For the most part he had avoided school, spending his days hobbling around in the garage working on a '69 Mustang that he'd bought off a neighbor down the road. The last Castiel had seen of it two weeks ago, the car was rusted with age and the engine was beyond repair, but Dean was determined to have it in working condition as soon as possible. Why he even bothered, Castiel would never understand.

"You have your license, right?" Castiel jumped, turning to find Sam standing less than three feet away; the boy was wearing nothing besides his usual plaid button up and a light jacket, his cheeks slightly flushed from cold.

"Hello to you too," Castiel greeted.

"Driver license," Sam repeated impatiently. "Do you have one?"

"Of course I do, but I don't see how that matters right now," Castiel frowned, smoothing the creases in his work apron and wincing as he heard one of the teenagers in the aisle curse and a crash follow; whatever they'd broken, he would have to clean.

"Good," Sam nodded, seemingly pleased, and walked over the coat rack near the door; he pulled Castiel's coat off the lowest peg and carried it back to the older boy, holding it out expectantly.

"Sam- what's going on? I can't just leave work," Castiel frowned.

"I've got your shift covered. I worked it out with your boss yesterday," The freshman thrust the coat at him, and Castiel took it with a shocked stare.

"Sam, you don't even work here." Castiel insisted as the younger boy hurried Castiel into his coat, and Castiel obliged him; he slipped his work apron off and laid it near the register, sliding into the familiar coat and buttoning it to keep out the cold.

"I do tonight," Sam argued, grabbing the apron and slipping it on over his head. "Dean's waiting for you in the back parking lot,"

Castiel perked up at the idea of seeing his boyfriend for the first time in a little over a week, no longer concerned about his shift as he almost ran towards the back door before he remembered something. Skidding to a halt, he ducked into the employee break room and grabbed the gifts he'd tucked into his locker.

"Sam," He called, and the younger boy shot his arms out in just enough time to catch his present – an empty leather journal hidden under the wrapping – as it sailed through the air. "Merry Christmas!"

"Same to you," Sam grinned, staring at the present with a fond expression as Castiel ducked outside and tucked Dean's small gift safely in the pocket of his coat.

Looking around, it took Castiel a moment to spot Dean where the older boy was leaning against the hood of the Impala with his usual abundance of cool. The collar of his jacket was turned up against the wind, the black fabric of Castiel's scarf wrapped around his neck. He smiled when he saw Castiel and stood up straight, pushing off the Impala and taking a few steps forward; Castiel was the first to close the gap, though, his arms falling into their natural place around the older boy's neck and his lips slotting against Dean's.

Dean kissed him back with equal enthusiasm, a curve in his lips against Castiel's and a barely noticeable indent at the left corner of his mouth- Castiel had kissed Dean through enough smiles in their three month relationship to know when one was there. Pulling away after a long moment, Castiel found he was right in assuming that Dean was smiling. The older boy looked positively overjoyed to be standing in the snow with Castiel's slim body pressed against his own.

"I missed you," Dean mumbled in a rare moment of openness, ducking his head to steal another kiss. Castiel smiled as he kissed back, playing with the soft hairs at the nape of Dean's neck as he drew away to study the older man's face.

"It's only been a week," Castiel tried to reason but Dean shook his head, flecks of gold bright in his green irises.

"Too long," Dean insisted, and Castiel chuckled as he nodded his agreement; being away from Dean was like a physical ache. No amount of texting or phone calls could fill the space; whether Dean was away on a family trip, or just needed a week to himself while he was healing up from a hiking accident, Castiel's body craved the older boys touch. It was clear in the white-knuckled grip that Dean had on his jacket that Dean had been craving to touch him as well.

"Then I suppose we'll just have to move in together to avoid being apart," Castiel teased, brushing his thumb over the strong bone of Dean's jaw and reveling in the way the muscles twitched nervously under his touch.

"I wouldn't be opposed to the idea," Dean smiled, his hands slowly dragging up and down Castiel's coat-clad sides.

"I'd make you wait on me hand and foot," Castiel grinned.

"Want me to wear a mini-skirt and heels? I've got nice legs, but you'll have to buy me a duster."

"I'd kick you in my sleep,"

"I don't bruise easy."

"I'd steal the blankets."

"Who needs blankets when I've got you to keep me warm?"

Castiel was the first to give in, laughing as he buried his face in Dean's neck. The older boy's chest rumbled with laughter as well and he squeezed Castiel's body affectionately against his own. They stayed like this until their chuckles died away, leaving them in content silence. Dean swayed silently – the boy could never truly stand still – and Castiel leaned into the soothing motion.

"So, you ready to go?" Dean finally mumbled into Castiel's hair, and the younger boy hummed a questioning sound against the older ones neck.

"We're going on a drive," Dean explained, kissing gently along Castiel's hairline. "So I can give you your present."

"I suppose I'm driving, since Sam asked about my license?" Castiel whispered, pressing the cold tip of his nose to the hollow of Dean's collarbone.

"Medication says not to drive," Dean shrugged. "Not going to risk wrecking my baby just because I've got to take freaking horse tranquilizers for my leg,"

Castiel chuckled- the statement was so very _Dean_ – and nodded as he reluctantly stepped away from his boyfriend and motioned him to go around to the passenger side; Dean did so obediently, climbing into the car and staring expectantly at Castiel through the window. The younger boy slid into the driver's seat and smiled as he pulled the door closed behind himself.

The cab was warm, the heater blowing spasmodic puffs of heated air through the car. Castiel unbuttoned his coat and slid it off, throwing it in back and leaving the scarf his brother had gifted him around his neck. Dean did the same with his heavy leather jacket, saddling himself against Castiel's side. When Castiel gave him a curious look, he simply raised a challenging eyebrow and pressed closer.

Rolling his eyes, Castiel settled an arm around Dean's body and managed to awkwardly grip the wheel with both hands as he pulled out on to the street and followed Dean's soft instructions to turn left and keep going.

The car was pleasantly quiet, the only sound coming from a strange rattling in the heater that Dean quietly attributed to a handful of Lego's he had shoved through the vent as a child. Castiel smiled at the thought of a five year old Dean biting his childish lip as he focused on forcing a handful of colorful blocks through the vents; the eighteen year old tucked against his side would faint before he disrespected the car in such a way.

"So where are we going?" Castiel asked, his chin resting atop Dean's head as the older boy sprawled carelessly across the front seat; half his body was resting in Castiel's lap, his long legs spread across the empty passenger seat.

"Just a little spot I found outside of town," Dean shrugged, wiggling around until his head was lying comfortably in Castiel's lap, leaving Castiel's chest cold and barren and his chin without a prop. "You'll like it,"

"If you're planning on raping me in seclusion, just know that I will tell Sam that you like to cuddle." Castiel murmured teasingly, taking one hand off the wheel to card his fingers through Dean's hair as he stared intently at the snowy road beyond the window.

"I do not like to cuddle," Dean huffed indignantly, glaring up at the strong line of Castiel's throat, unable to see the boys face. "And I'm not going to rape you; it's not rape if you like it,"

"Who says I'd like it?" Castiel shot back with a smirk, discontinuing the argument of cuddling; he had pictures on his new cell phone – he'd finally replaced the one he'd thrown against the wall a month back – of a sleeping Dean Winchester, curled around his body like a baby Koala. If that wasn't proof, nothing was.

"Actually," Castiel glanced down just long enough to see Dean's brow furrow before he looked back towards the road. "I've been meaning to ask you about that."

"What- if I'd enjoy being raped?" Castiel snorted, rolling to a slow stop at an intersection; Dean sat up long enough to direct the younger boy before settling his head back in place against Castiel's thigh.

"I might be a kinky bastard, but I'm not _that_ kinky." Dean snorted before continuing, "I was just curious about something you said to your brother,"

"I've said a lot of things to Gabriel," Castiel shrugged distractedly, squinting as a flurry of snow momentarily altered his view of the road.

"You told him that you'd never beat yourself off," Dean's voice was casually interested, but the blush that raced up Castiel's neck and cheeks gave away his embarrassment. He knew exactly what Dean was referring to; Thanksgiving night, when he'd ordered Dean to hide in the closet while his brother came into the room.

"Yeah, so?" Castiel grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"But you said something else that made me think you _had_ gotten off."

Castiel's cheeks were flaming, his stomach tied in embarrassing knots as he stared out the window.

"I'm sixteen, course I've… y'know," Castiel shrugged weakly, looking anywhere but at Dean as they reached another turn and Dean motioned to turn right.

"You've 'had a date with your right hand' as Gabe put it?" Castiel could hear the smirk in Dean's voice as the older boy picked at the knee of Castiel's jeans.

"I've never masturbated, Dean." Castiel grit out, the clinical term helping just a bit; it made him feel slightly less dirty and uncomfortable with the situation.

"So, then… How have you…"

"I don't see why it matters how I've…" Castiel grumbled, his embarrassment almost a tangible object within the car. He refused to say the words; he had no idea why, but it was tremendously hard to spit out crude slang, or even clinical terms for a regular human function…

"C'mon, Cassie," Dean chuckled, squeezing Castiel's knee gently. "You can't be prude if you're dating a Winchester."

"Dean, you can guess what I mean." Castiel glared down at Dean for a moment before looking back up at the road and rolling to a slow stop when they hit a dead end. He put the car in park and cut the ignition, sitting uncomfortably stiff as Dean pondered his words for a moment.

"So you've never touched yourself, but you have gotten off?" Dean looked up at Castiel for clarification and, blushing all the while, Castiel gave the smallest of nods as he looked out the window. "How'd you manage that?"

"_Dean_," Castiel sighed in exasperation, looking down at his boyfriend with a pleading expression; _don't make me say it out loud_.

"I'm going to need an answer before the night is out, Cas."

Castiel blanched, staring down at Dean with wide blue eyes.

"You _did_ bring me out here to rape me!" He accused, scrambling to get Dean's head out of his lap. The older boy laughed, shaking his head as he sat up and brushed a tender hand over his boyfriend's cheek.

"I'm not going to rape you, Cas," Dean promised. "All I wanted to do was park out here and go on a walk,"

"So you don't want to have sex?" Castiel asked cautiously, caught between disappointment and relief.

"You know… You and Sam are both really stupid sometimes as far as nerds go," Dean said, making a face as he grabbed their coats from the backseat. "Of course I want to have sex – I've still got blue balls from Thanksgiving, dude."

"You're crude, Dean." Castiel accused as he shrugged into his coat and Dean did the same beside him.

"Aw, c'mon, Cas." Dean laughed. "Tell me you aren't the least bit pissed that Sam walked in before you could finish undressing me."

"I'm not at all upset that Sam walked in before I could finish undressing you," Castiel replied without hesitation, though there was no conviction in his words at all as he climbed out of the car and Dean followed suit.

"You think I'm sexy," Dean smirked as he limped around to Castiel's side of the car, lacing his fingers with his boyfriend's as the two began walking slowly towards a narrow path leading behind the dead-end sign. The snow crunched noisily under their feet and small flakes of white had already begun to cling to each boy's heads in small crystals.

"I like you better when you're not thinking with your hormones," Castiel rolled his eyes, stepping cautiously around a small puddle of ice and smiling as Dean landed his uninjured foot in the water with a surprised yelp.

"Cas, I've been ignoring my hormones since we started dating," Dean pointed out as he shook the water off his boot with a grouchy expression. "I figure if we're almost four months into this thing, I can at least ask about sex."

"Four months is not that long, Dean," Castiel chuckled, squeezing the older boys hand as they continued further down the path. The snow was falling in small flurries, covering the bushes and trees that lined the path; there were small patches of ground entirely dry, the trees protecting the ground from the frigid flakes of snow.

"Longest relationship I've ever had," Dean grumbled so quietly Castiel almost missed it. When his brain registered the words it brought Castiel up short; he looked over at Dean with absolute disbelief as they walked.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope," Dean shrugged, returning his confused look with an arched brow. "Why does that shock you?"

"You're… Well, Dean, you've got girls crawling all over you." Castiel gaped. "Surely you must've dated one of them for a bit longer?"

"My longest relationship before you only lasted a month," Dean admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. The older boy's cheeks darkened and Castiel decided to blame it on the cold; Dean Winchester did not blush. "You're the first person that I thought might be worth sticking with, Cas."

"Why me?" Castiel asked after a span of silence.

"There are plenty of reasons," Dean shrugged, looking anywhere but at Castiel as he spoke. "First and foremost is that Sam likes you; I mean… It's pretty hard to earn that kids trust, but he wouldn't shut up about you after you gave him that first-aid kit on the bus."

Castiel smiled at the memory of the first day he met Sam and Dean- it seemed so far away now, though it hadn't really been that long ago.

"The biggest one, though… It's probably the fact that you don't try to fix me." Dean paused, casting a bashful look at Castiel before he looked down at his boots. "You don't care that I live in a dump, and you don't expect me to think of you over Sammy… You didn't force me to tell you why I had a freaking _handgun_ under my pillow, and you risked getting your ass skinned by your mom because I was too much of a coward to spend the night by myself…"

Castiel squeezed Dean's hand gently as the older boy trailed off, his head down as they walked; it was hard for Dean to show emotion, let alone talk about it- the fact that he was opening up to Castiel was the best Christmas gift that the younger boy could have asked for.

"You're just… You, Cas… And you're worth a hell of lot more than most of the bimbos I've dated… And, I guess… Sex is…. Oh, fuck it," Dean finally let lose an exasperated sigh, raising his head and pulling Castiel to a stop in the middle of the path. He wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, dragging him into an affectionate embrace and mouthing along his jaw until he found his chin, at which point his mouth moved upwards and his lips found Castiel's.

The kiss was gentle and deep, allowing Dean to speak without having to find the right words; a silent language only he and Castiel could understand. It wasn't as trivial as words- there was no grammar, or spelling, or mistaken definitions; it was a simple slide of mouth against mouth, and the careful whispers of breath caught in between.

Castiel could feel the lust, love, and need within the kiss; he could feel how desperately Dean _needed_ to have these feelings reciprocated, to know that Castiel needed him as much as he needed Castiel. He could also feel in the taut line of Dean's body and the trembling fingers carding through his hair that Dean didn't expect reciprocation, but rather denial.

The thought was shocking, but Castiel realized that his bashful nature throughout the evening had given Dean valid reason to believe that Castiel wouldn't want to have sex with him. The truth was quite the opposite – Castiel had wanted Dean since that day in November.

Slowly, Castiel pried his mouth away from Dean's and ran a gentle thumb over the older boys jaw.

"Sex is the only way you know how to show you care," Castiel raised an eyebrow and Dean blushed furiously, shrugging as he rested his forehead against Castiel's.

"I know it seems stupid, considering I'm pretty much the definition of a man-whore, but,-"

"You are not a man-whore, Dean." Castiel scolded, pressing a gentle kiss to his boyfriend's lips as the two swayed from side to side in their embrace. "You've just… Tricked yourself into believing there's some kind of correlation between sex and love,"

"There is," Dean sighed, his eyes closing as he held Castiel closer. "I've just… To me, sex has always just been… sex."

"Dean, that's not a bad thing. That's how most people think of it," Castiel soothed, raking gentle fingers through the hair at the base of the older boys neck, his fingers ducking beneath the black fabric of Dean's – _Castiel's_ – scarf.

"It is… Because I should have waited for you, Cas. Sam always talks all this shit about waiting for someone you really care about, and… I didn't understand what the hell he was talking about until we almost had sex on Thanksgiving. And I'm freaking terrified that you think I'm just some stupid guy who's slept around, and that sex isn't going to mean anything to me because I've done it so many times…" Dean's face was contorted in pain, and Castiel couldn't stand seeing him so torn up over something as stupidly pointless as sex.

Though he had been taught from a young age that sex was an act between spouses, and that abstinence until marriage was the only way to go, Castiel had a very different view on the matter. As far as he was concerned, sex was an act of the body; it was two people satisfying a physical need, just like eating or drinking. The only way sex could matter is if the two bodies involved were joined at the soul- and as far as Dean had told him, Dean had never felt anything more than a physical attraction towards the woman and men he'd slept with.

"Dean," Castiel said his name gently after a great span of silence in which both boys held their breath, waiting for the other to finish mulling the situation over. Dean's eyes were closed, his expression braced for rejection, and Castiel's decision had been made as he pressed himself closer to the older boy in the snowy weather. "You didn't have to wait for me… I've been waiting for the both of us."

**XxXxXxXxXx**

So... I'm really not confident in this chapter. I just felt like it wasn't good. Don't know why, just... Yeah. What are y'alls thoughts?

Anyways... I just want to warn you; there is not many chapters left in this fic. However, please go ahead and celebrate if you want...

_THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL!_

Anyways- just general thanks for those of you who have followed this. I really, really, appreciate the support. And to the person who told me this could be the next Twist and Shout if it wanted to be... You literally made my life, you sexy beast.

-CCW


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter : 12**

Castiel was having trouble breathing as he stared at himself in the mirror, smoothing down the creases in his dress shirt for what felt like the millionth time that evening. The white material cut off abruptly where it was tucked into his black slacks, and his dress shoes reflected the light in the bedroom dimly. His tie, a dark blue to match his attire, covered the buttons of his shirt and his blazer was open – for the time being – in hopes of keeping him from sweating in the heated room.

Perhaps the most interesting part of his attire was the mask, held in place with an elastic band around his head. It was a black number, simple as far as shape went and complicated in the painted design; thinly painted lines shot out from the corners and edges of the mask, wrapping around the holes that exposed Castiel's eyes in delicate swirls of blue and silver, highlighting the color of Castiel's eyes and making his eyelashes look surprisingly long.

Castiel's stomach was going through nervous rotations as he turned away from the mirror and wandered absentmindedly on to his balcony, inhaling a soothing breath of the frigid January air. It was odd for him to be _nervous_ about a school dance, because it was odd for him to _attend_ one.

Most evenings when the student body was attending a formal, Castiel would hide himself away and spend the night reading a book and silently pitying himself; Dean forbid it this year.

The mere thought of his date for the evening had Castiel's stomach doing another series of flips, his grip on the railing white-knuckled as he stared out at the calm scene that was his front yard. This was the evening of January twenty-fourth; not only was it the night of the winter formal, but it was also Dean's nineteenth birthday.

Castiel had his boyfriends present tucked safely into the duffel bag lying beside his bedroom door; it was an overnight bag that he'd kept packed since Christmas, when he had awkwardly had to lie his way through a tale of falling in to a pond while ice-skating when his mother asked why he came home wearing someone else's clothes; telling her that his clothing was lying in a soiled pile in the trunk of his boyfriends car was not an option.

Thinking about his mother, Castiel glanced back into the house with a scowl. The woman had been sniffing around him like a blood hound since Christmas, waiting for Castiel to slip up and give her a reason to explode; Castiel had been extra careful about hiding his relationship, and even gone as far as to stage a female date for this evening. One of Dean's friends from out of town had offered to take the job, and Castiel had pounced on the opportunity; going to the formal was the only thing Dean had asked to do for his birthday, an odd request from Dean Winchester, so Castiel was determined to make it happen.

Castiel nearly jumped out of his skin when a honk sounded in the distance and a pair of headlights suddenly illuminated the front lawn, the Impala rolling down the drive with a slow crunch of gravel and snow. Castiel smiled, squinting to see the faint outline of Dean in the driver's seat before his ducked back into his bedroom, closing and locking the balcony door behind himself and grabbing his duffel before he took the stairs two at a time.

"Castiel, your date should not have to pick _you_ up! If you were a proper man, you would have picked her up from her house!" His mother squawked as he reached the foyer, but not even the King James that thumped against his temple could ruin his mood.

"Joanna is from out of town, mother." He explained for possibly the fourth time that week as he set the duffle bag down only long enough to button his blazer before picking it up once more. "The boy she's staying with is a friend of mine, and he offered to drive us both,"

"I just hope you don't ruin the evening for this poor girl," Ms. Novak sighed, peeking through the curtains. Castiel heard the slam of two separate car doors and tried not to tap his foot as he impatiently awaited the doorbell.

"Mother, I assure you that I will be a perfect gentleman." He sighed, knowing his assurances would do nothing to affect her view of him. She was still convinced that he would leave Joanna alone to tempt the boys at the dance- granted that's what he was going to do, he wasn't going to leave Joanna on her own; the girl wasn't even going to attend the dance, she was going to take Sam into town for a movie while Castiel and Dean had an evening to themselves.

"Do not smear this family name any further, Jonathon." His mother growled as a soft knock on the door drew their attention. Castiel nodded obediently, biting his tongue as he opened the door and almost fainted at the sight before him.

Dean was standing on the doorstep, his jacket open to reveal a gold vest and tie over a white dress shirt. One hand was tucked into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket, the other poised to knock. His mask was shaped quite similarly to Castiel's, but it was decorated quite differently; it was solid gold, although stylish scrapes revealed a hint of silver underneath, and the designs all branched from the bottom and curled upwards in risen lines around his eyes. The gold flecks that had always been present in Dean's green irises seemed alarmingly bright, undoubtedly a fault of the masks color.

Those eyes, beautiful and familiar, looked anywhere but at Castiel.

"Hello, Ms. Novak," Dean greeted stiffly, extending a hand. Castiel's mother shook the offered limb with disdain before letting it fall and staring evenly at the boy on the doorstep.

"I suppose you'll be the driver?" She questioned.

"Yes ma'am." He nodded. "Joanna is in the car- she's injured her leg, and getting out just to say hello would be quite a hassle. If you'd like to go meet her, please feel free."

"No, that will be fine. I do expect photos from the evening, though." She shot Castiel a dangerous look and the boy flinched without his permission.

"Yes, mother." He promised quietly, edging towards the door. When his mother made no move to stop him, he was quick to brush past Dean and climb in the Impala. He expected Joanna to be sitting in the back as Dean had said but as he tossed his duffel into the backseat he found it empty. Though it had been a risky move on Dean's part, Castiel was glad they would be alone on the drive.

A few moments later, Dean slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door closed behind himself. Castiel reached for his boyfriends hand felt his heart give a nervous tug when Dean pulled his hand out reach.

That was very unlike Dean.

Castiel's worries were quickly soothed when they reached the end of the drive way and Dean put the car in park, reaching out for Castiel and dragging the smaller boy across the seat. Castiel went without argument, swinging one knee over Dean's legs so he could comfortably straddle the older boys lap. He rested his hands on Dean's shoulders and smiled as the older boy looked him over with obvious approval.

"Do you know how hard it was not to grope you in front of your mother?" Dean chuckled, tilting his head up for a kiss. Castiel obliged, their masks knocking noisily against each other but neither boy caring.

"That's statutory rape, you pedophile." Castiel mumbled teasingly into the other boy's mouth, laughing as Dean gave his calves a solid squeeze and bit his bottom lip.

"It's not rape if you like it, darling," Dean drawled as he pulled away, winking and combing his fingers gently through Castiel's hair. He made a face as he quickly pulled his hands away, looking at his splayed fingers as if they'd personally offended him.

"Did you put gel in your hair?" He demanded and Castiel nodded with a chuckle. His hair had always been an animal to tame, and the only way he could get it to lay flat and out of his face for this evening was from a handful of hair-gel from his mother's collection.

"I hate gel," Dean groaned, resting his forehead against Castiel's shoulder in a surprisingly childish manner. Castiel chuckled, picking a piece of lint off the shoulder of Dean's jacket and smoothing a hand down the older boys back.

"Are you sure you're nineteen?" He asked cautiously, and Dean's shoulder shook as he chuckled and pressed a kiss to the fabric of Castiel's blazer.

"Yes," Dean smiled as he looked up at the boy sitting in his lap, his head falling back to rest against the seat as Castiel's fingers slowly traced over the lines of his face; the curve of his lips, the bones of his cheeks, his eyelids…

"Cas, what're you doing?" Dean chuckled as he let his eyes fall closed and his boyfriends thumbs brushed gently over his eyelashes.

"Memorizing," Castiel answered quietly. Four and a half months into their relationship and Castiel had finally become entirely comfortable with touching Dean, and telling the other boy his thoughts without worry of being scolded or teased.

"Planning on forgetting me sometime soon?" Dean smiled, puckering lips in attempt to kiss the pad of Castiel's thumb as the digit dragged softly over his lips and smoothed over the dip in his chin.

"No, I just enjoy touching your face," Castiel grumbled, his expression focused despite the fact Dean could not see him, and Dean smiled as he felt a slightly chapped pair of lips ghost over his own.

"You are such a dork," Dean murmured affectionately as Castiel's lips brushed over each of his eyelids; both boys were whispering, despite the empty car. They seemed to have come to a silent consensus that such a tender moment couldn't be ruined with their usual volumes of speech.

Sam, however, had every intention of ruining the moment; he seemed to be quite good at that.

A sharp rap against the window had Castiel scrambling to climb out of Dean's lap, and Dean yelping in pain as he received a sharp knee to the groin. Castiel wheeled around, his mask knocked sideways as Dean curled in on himself and cupped the crotch of his pants tenderly, his forehead pressed to the steering wheel as he released a high keening noise. Castiel brushed a gentle hand over his boyfriend's lower back, shooting Sam a dark look as the freshman threw open the driver-side door and tried to stifle his laughter.

"That's what you get for making me stand in the snow for twenty minutes while you two make out," Sam said, as if his brother taking a hit to the groin was a just punishment. Dean simply shook his head, his jaw ticking as he finally recovered enough to sit up; his hands remained protectively cupped in his lap and Castiel pressed tightly against his side in a clear statement of apology.

"Did you bring the camera?" Dean grated out, and his younger brother held up a small device that Castiel guessed was a camera. "Good- where's Jo?"

"She's sitting in the car," Sam answered, tucking the camera back in the pocket of his coat. "She didn't want to see the two of you sucking face,"

"Shut up and bring her over here, bitch," Dean rolled his eyes, motioning Sam to go away. Sam rolled his eyes but crunched away towards a car Castiel hadn't seen sitting a few yards down the road.

"Why is Sam here?" Castiel asked, fingering the hairs at the base of Dean's neck thoughtfully as the older man sighed.

"Your mom needs pictures of you and Jo- and I wanted a picture of us," Dean explained, pressing a kiss to Castiel's temple before slipping out of the car and standing with a long sigh. Castiel followed, pushing the door closed behind him and smiling as Dean draped a possessive arm over his shoulders and rested his chin atop the shorter man's head. Together the two of them leaned back against the still-warm hood of the Impala, and Castiel smiled as Dean made a comment about the fruity smell of his hair gel.

"You are the gay stereotype, Cas, all the way down to the fruity smells and the sweater-vests," Dean laughed, leaning away just enough to look Castiel in the eyes as the younger boy looked up and stuck his tongue out in retaliation before a flash in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned to see Sam standing a few feet away, grinning like a fool as he waved the camera victoriously through the air.

"I'm so framing this one," Sam announced, bringing the camera back to his eyes. "Now do a nice pose,"

So, for the next twenty minutes Castiel and Dean were subject to Sam's photographic vision; there was several shots of the two of them propped against the Impala side by side, a few of each one of them by themselves; Sam even managed to catch a shot of the two of them kissing when they thought he wasn't looking. Dean soon got irritable though, and to Castiel's relief, a new voice entered the mix.

"Sam, give Dean a break before he bites your head off." Castiel looked to the side and frowned when he saw the long-legged blonde striding towards him in a blue cocktail dress; her mask was solid blue like her dress, no design, and her brown eyes were warm and friendly as she threw an arm around Castiel's waist and motioned Dean to go away.

"Jo, you know my policy as far as hitting girls goes," Dean warned as he hesitantly moved away, leaving a panicky Castiel standing stiffly next to Jo. Sam snapped a few pictures as Jo winked at Dean and pressed a sloppy kiss to Castiel's cheek.

"I won't get _too_ handsy, Dean." This news was anything but comforting to Castiel as he let his arm hesitantly encircle the girls waist; everything about it was wrong- there was curves where the sharp bones of a man's hip should have been, and the hand resting against his opposite side was much too small and soft.

"Jo Harvell," The blonde girl smiled at Castiel, squeezing his waist in a warm display of friendship; little did she know that Castiel was ten seconds from scrambling his way back into Dean's arms, where he belonged. Dean didn't seem too pleased with the situation either, his eyes glue to Jo's hand where it was moving and down Castiel's side.

"Castiel Novak," Castiel managed to reply with a weak smile, glancing towards the camera in enough time for Sam to catch a photo with both parties smiling. Whether he noticed Castiel's discomfort or was satisfied with his own work, Sam announced the shoot to be over and Castiel all but sprung away from Jo.

Dean was waiting only a few steps away, arms crushing Castiel possessively close as soon as he was within reach. Castiel inhaled the strong scent of generic soap and a faint hint of cologne; something _masculine_ and _Dean_. He realized with some humor that he had absolutely no hope of being what his mother wanted; simply being touched by a woman, or touching one, seemed wrong to Castiel.

Jo placed a hand on her hip, arching a brow.

"Am I really that repulsive in a dress?" She demanded.

"Hideous," Dean winked, blowing her a kiss which she pretended to catch before throwing it in the dirt and crushing it under her heel.

"Cas just has some… Trust issues," Sam rolled his eyes.

"_Sam_," Dean growled in warning as Castiel tensed in his arms, flinching against the suggestion; granted he did have a hard time growing close to people, he didn't want that news spread to every stranger on the side of the road.

"Relax, Dean. I'm not going to give away his life story," Sam assured, shaking his head as he glanced at his watch and cursed. "C'mon, Jo- if we don't hurry up, we're gonna miss the movie."

"Alright, alright," Jo made to follow Sam as the freshman moved towards the car parked further down the road, but she paused when Dean called out after her.

"Thanks," Castiel laid his head on Dean's chest, listening to the words vibrate through him. "For doing this, I mean- taking the pictures, and watching Sammy for the night. I owe you one,"

"Don't think I won't collect, Dean-O," She warned before turning on her heel and hiking her dress up in a very un-lady like fashion as she jogged towards the car and slid into the driver's seat.

Only a few minutes later she and Sam were a good mile down the road, only their taillights visible to the couple still standing in the drive way.

**XxXxXxX**

The dance turned out to be a bust. Dean and Castiel stayed long enough to receive a few rude comments, but when someone pulled out their phone and attempted to take a photo bound for Castiel's mother, they quickly left. Dean was nothing but apologetic, but Castiel assured him that he would rather spend the evening alone together than in a room full of crowded people.

That was how they ended up lying on the small twin-sized bed in Dean's bedroom, a mess of tangled limbs and headphones. They were listening to Castiel's mp3 rather than the Walkman for once, and Dean kept making faces at the different songs playing. Though Castiel was offended by his lack of respect for _Mumford & Sons_, he was quite entertained by the faces his boyfriend was making.

"Dean, they are not _that_ bad." Castiel laughed as he played with the fabric of Dean's tie where it was still hanging loosely around the older boy's neck.

"I don't like them," Dean decided, taking the mp3 out of Castiel's hands and scrolling through the artists until he found one fitting of his approval. "Led Zeppelin? You're not entirely hopeless, Cas." He smiled as _Stairway to Heaven_ poured through the couples ears.

Castiel nodded, using Dean's arm as a pillow as he rolled on to his back and stared absentmindedly at a pile of boxes in the corner across the room. Sam's books, once piled neatly at the foot of his bed, were now in a box.

"It's been six months," Castiel turned his head to look pointedly at the boy beside him and Dean quirked an eyebrow.

"We've only been dating four and a half months, Cas," Dean corrected.

"No- it's been six months since you got here." Castiel rolled his eyes, shifting his legs where they were tangled with Dean's. "And your stuff is still in boxes."

"Yeah, and?" Dean asked, something flashing behind his eyes before it disappeared.

"Why haven't you settled in yet?" Castiel wondered, picking at a string on the blankets beneath them as Dean shrugged, shifting Castiel's head where it was propped against his arm.

"Haven't had the time or the urge, I guess." Dean drug his foot gently over Castiel's shin before settling his heel in the bend of Castiel's left ankle. Castiel wiggled his toes experimentally, smiling faintly as Dean's foot shifted along with the tendons in his ankle.

"I could help you unpack one day, if you want." Castiel offered through a yawn, laying one hand flat over Dean's stomach and watching as it rose and fell with the older boy's breath.

"We'll make it a date," Dean said after a long moment, his voice quiet and somber. Castiel glanced up at his face, expecting to find something sad, but there was only a gentle smile.

"So where's my birthday present, huh, Mr. Romantic?" He teased, obviously changing the subjects, and Castiel chuckled as Dean nuzzled his neck expectantly, pulling his headphone out in the process.

"It's in my pocket," He answered, and Dean looked up in surprise.

"You actually got me something?" He asked, seemingly surprised.

"Of course I did," Castiel rolled his eyes, reaching into the pocket of his blazer and retrieving the small package. Dean took it and studied the comic-strip wrapping for a long moment before he turned to Castiel and pressed a soft kiss to the younger boy's lips.

"You are an angel, Cas." He praised and Castiel blushed as he moved closer and watched Dean carefully peel away the comics to reveal a small leather wallet; Dean had been complaining that his wallet was near the end of its life less than a week ago, and Castiel had happened to stumble upon the small black billfold when he was out shopping a few days after that. Dean grinned as he flipped the small wallet open, and the grin melted into a stunned frown.

Castiel's heart skipped nervously as he waited for Dean's reaction to the picture tucked into the slot where ones ID was meant to go. Dean had never been aware of the pictures existence since he was asleep in the image, but Castiel had wanted to give him some kind of image to show people if they were to ask about his relationship. The image was quite silly, in all honesty, Castiel's forehead pressed to Dean's as the older boy slept on obliviously. Castiel's eyes were wide open, staring at the relaxed expression on his boyfriends face, smiling all the while.

Dean made a soft sound in the back of his throat, looking between Castiel and the image several times before he broke into a smile and set the wallet on his bedside table.

"An angel," Dean repeated to Castiel's relief, pressing a tender kiss to the younger boy's lips. "Been my angel since the day it started snowing, and you said you'd look out for Sammy and I at school while we were gone … I guess you're some kind of winter angel, huh, Cas? Wings only work when it's snowing outside,"

"I guess so…" Castiel chuckled at Dean's nonsensical analogy, knowing he'd care for the Winchester boys long after it stopped snowing. "And I suppose this is just a very Winchester winter,"

**xXxXxXxXx**

And so we finally find the title somewhere in the story! Woo!

Getting closer to the end /3

-CCW


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter : 13

February passed with little interest, Dean making Valentine's Day a greater fiasco than it should have been when he gifted the '69 Mustang he'd been working on to Castiel. The little white car was in desperate need of a paint-job, but the engine purred, the radio picked up most FM channels, and the A/C worked like a charm; it was more than Castiel was willing to accept, but Dean wouldn't take no as an answer.

Despite his reluctance, Castiel adopted the poorly painted car as his own after striking a payment deal (under the table) with Sam, affectionately deeming it Silver after a week of owning it. When Dean raised a questioning eyebrow at the name, Castiel all but forced him into a chair and played the _Lone Ranger_ – the series from 1949, of course; Armie Hammer was certainly no Clayton Moore- until Dean came to an understanding.

It was mid-March now; Sam's fifteenth birthday had passed, and though the snow had stopped falling it had yet to melt away. Spring-break was less than three days away, but Castiel no longer dreaded the days away from school as he once did; rather, he was excited to spend his nights driving in pointless circles, or listening to Dean ramble about trivial things until he they fell asleep in mess of contently tangled limbs, without the knowledge that he had to return to school the next day.

He managed to maintain steady grades, and was never late to a shift for work, but the change in his personality was obvious; Dean Winchester had brought out the old Castiel, the one who disappeared with the death of Balthazar. In fact, it was the first thing Gabriel and Anna noticed when they arrived home for their own spring-break.

"You look slap-happy," Gabriel accused as the three relaxed in Gabriel's room the first afternoon of their arrival; Anna was wearing her Christmas gifts, perched on the window-seat like a porcelain doll, and Gabriel was sprawled across his bed. Castiel was tucked carefully in the corner of the room, trying to find a comfortable position on the bean-bag underneath him.

"What?" Castiel was shaken from his thoughts – his mind was lingering on events from the previous weekend, his fingertips absently tracing a purple mark hidden by the collar of his shirt – by the sound of his brother's voice.

"You have been smiling a lot this evening, Castiel," Anna agreed with her twin, toying with a charm around her neck as she studied her younger sibling carefully.

"I'm in a good mood," Castiel admitted, shrugging as he brought his fingers away from his neck, realizing he'd probably been bringing attention to the spot.

"Would pretty green eyes and fuck-me-bed-head have anything to do with that?" Gabriel smirked, raising an eyebrow as Castiel's cheeks tinged pink and he chuckled to himself; he'd never thought of Dean's hair as arousing, but now that he thought about it...

"He has a name," Castiel pointed out and Anna raised a delicate brow.

"He _who_?" She demanded, looking between Gabriel and Castiel expectantly. The brothers shared a guilty look and Castiel sunk deeper into the bean-bag, his cheeks darkening.

"Cas has a pretty nice piece of meat following him around," Gabriel explained. "They've been dating for, what? Six months now?" He glanced towards Castiel for conformation.

"Yes," Castiel confirmed bashfully.

"And why exactly was I left in the dark about this?" Anna demanded, her tone caught between annoyance and amusement.

"I guess I forgot to tell you," Gabriel shrugged apologetically as pulled at a string on his quilt. "He's a decent guy, though- we went out for pie at four o'clock Thanksgiving morning and the guy didn't complain at all,"

"You went out for Thanksgiving pie _without_ me?" Anna gaped.

"Sorry, little sister- figured that monster you call a boyfriend had your hands tied- quite literally, if I heard things correctly." Gabriel smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Anna made an indignant noise and slipped a flat off her foot, composure slipping as she hurled the shoe at the boy on the bed.

"I am only younger by two minutes!" She squeaked, though it was obvious that Gabriel's affectionate endearment was not what was bothering her. Gabriel cackled, dodging the flying flat before settling back against the pillows once more.

"Still younger," Gabriel smirked as he retrieved a blow-pop from the bedside table and peeled away the wrapper. Anna glared daggers at the older Novak boy in the room before turning to Castiel, deciding he was of more interest.

"So, what's his name, Castiel?"

"Dean," Castiel announced. "Dean Winchester."

"What's he like?" Anna smiled, seeming pleased as she tucked her legs beneath herself and folded her hands in her lap.

Castiel struggled to find a way to describe a man of so little words.

Dean Winchester was like a flame, warm when kept at arm's length but hot and savage to the touch; his personality could be cold and sharp like a winter breeze, or warm and soothing as a lazy day in spring. His skin was rough and scarred, yet smooth under the touch of another; his eyes told of secrets and hidden pains, yet his face was etched with lines of laughter. To experience his love was life changing, and to experience his wrath was terrifying. He contradicted himself in a thousand different ways, yet it all made sense to those who knew him.

"He's unique," Castiel finally decided on the meager adjective, examining his hands curiously as Anna grinned.

"Good looking, I hope?" She prompted and Castiel nodded shyly, fighting a grin as his cheeks flushed.

"Oh, don't be modest, Cas." Gabriel snickered, leaning over the edge of the bed to retrieve Castiel's cell-phone where it was resting on the floor beside the youngest Novak's knee. Castiel made an attempt to retrieve the small device, blurting out a noise of protest as Gabriel tossed the phone to their sister; the wallpaper was the same image of the couple that Dean carried in his wallet, their foreheads pressed together while Dean slept and Castiel smiled at his relaxed expression.

"Oh, he's _gorgeous!_" Anna gasped, holding the device closer and squinting at the image with a large small as she glanced between Castiel and the screen. "Why are his eyes closed, though?"

"He had just gotten out of the hospital," Castiel explained bashfully as she returned his cell phone. "So I spent the evening with him, and the painkillers made him surprisingly… Cuddly. I couldn't resist taking the photograph when he fell asleep against me,"

"Hospital?" Anna worried, biting her bottom lip.

"He had a hiking accident," Castiel explained- it was the story he'd been told, so he forced himself to believe it despite his reservations and the incident in which Sam was almost shot. "He had pneumonia and a broken leg,"

"Poor thing," Anna frowned, opening her mouth to continue when a sudden exclamation from the phone in Castiel's hand cut her off.

"_S is for the simple need, E is for the ecstasy; X is just to mark the spot cause that's the one you really want. Sex is always the answer, it's never a question cause the answer is yes_," Castiel blanched at the inappropriate lyrics, his cheeks flaming as he pressed the device to his ear and answered the call.

"Hey, Cas."

"What on Earth possessed you to change my ringtone? You're incredibly lucky I wasn't near my mother when you called," Castiel scolded, climbing to his feet and heading towards the door; Anna and Gabriel followed close on his heels. Like eager children trying to listen in on an adult conversation, they were tripping over one and other as they strained their ears.

"Ah, I forgot about that." Dean chuckled. "It was Sam's idea, actually. Did you like the song?"

"Of course not," Castiel rolled his eyes, hearing the leer in Dean's voice as he wandered into the hall, heading for his bedroom. Gabriel muttered something and Castiel heard the distinctive sound of palm hitting cheek and Anna hurriedly shushing the older boy.

"Too bad," Dean sighed, "It's actually pretty good."

"If you say so… Why the sudden call? Is everything alright?" Castiel answered as he pushed open the door to his bedroom and came to a sudden halt, Anna and Gabriel running into his back and causing him to stumble forward a few steps.

Dean smiled shyly, phone still pressed to his ear where he was standing outside the locked balcony doors, and Castiel watched as he raised a hand and waked enthusiastically. Gabriel was the first to laugh, walking towards the doors while Anna turned and closed the bedroom door, locking it for extra measure, before she too moved to the balcony doors. Once they were unlatched, Dean strolled easily into the room with a mumbled thanks to the older Novak siblings before turning to Castiel with a smile.

The smile didn't reach his eyes.

"You seem to show up at my home unannounced quite often," Castiel smiled gently. "This isn't going to become a habit, is it?"

Dean shrugged, closing the small gap between them and kissing Castiel's forehead in a silent greeting. Castiel tilted his head back, seeking out Dean's lips, but the older man turned away before he could complete his search. That was odd…

"Hey Gabe," Dean greeted the older male in the room with a nod of his head before turning to Anna with a raised eyebrow, his arm brushing Castiel's as he glanced at his boyfriend. "I haven't met her before, have I?"

"No," Castiel answered with a shake of his head, motioning to his sister. "Dean, this is my older sister, Anna. Anna, this is Dean."

"How funny," Anna smiled. "We were just speaking about you,"

"Good things were said, I hope?" Dean smirked, looking suspiciously at Castiel. The younger boy rolled his eyes, shaking his head in a clear display of how idiotic the mere idea of saying something bad about Dean seemed.

"Only good things," Anna assured him unnecessarily, and Dean smiled weakly as he propped himself on the foot of Castiel's bed. The younger boy studied his boyfriend, frowning as he noticed the taut muscles in the older boys body and the troubled glint in his eyes.

"Anna, Gabriel," He addressed his siblings. "Would you mind giving us a moment alone?"

One glance at Castiel's worried expression was enough to get rid of the Novak twins, and they departed with muttered goodbyes, closing the door behind themselves. Castiel hovered restlessly near the end of the bed for a moment before lowering himself on to the bed beside Dean, their knees brushing as he cast a side-long glance at the older boy.

"What's on your mind, Dean?" Castiel tried, resting his elbows against his knees, his hands hovering in the empty space between his legs. Dean's jaw twitched in response to his words, but the older boy waited a long time to speak.

"I haven't seen you in a few days," He finally said, his expression guarded. "Guess I just wanted to check in."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Castiel smiled faintly, laying his head experimentally on his boyfriends shoulder. This earned him the smallest of smiles, Dean's eyes flickering over his face for a moment before returning to a spot on the carpet that seemed to interest him.

"Are you sure that's all that's bothering you? We've been apart before," Castiel murmured, closing his eyes as they sat together.

"Yeah, I just... Needed to see you," Dean sighed, turning to rest his chin atop Castiel's head.

"Well, here I am," Castiel muttered, reaching out blindly until his fingers found Dean's and twined together with the other digits. He gave his boyfriends hand a reassuring squeeze and Dean's breath ruffled his hair as he exhaled deeply.

"Here you are," Dean agreed with weak amusement.

Castiel frowned, leaning away from the older boy and staring at him; Dean's eyes wouldn't meet his, those hazel irises fluttering around the room as if Castiel wasn't even there. His jaw was tight, his hand tense in Castiel's, and the younger boy couldn't help the nervous fluttering in his stomach.

"Dean… What's wrong?" He whispered, his voice gentle and strong despite the knots in his stomach. The older boy's eyes slowly slid towards him, finally resting on his face after their short journey; there was something dark and somber in his expression, something Castiel couldn't quite decipher.

Dean, the man of a million actions, leaned forward and pressed his lips to Castiel's and the younger boy understood; something was upsetting him, but he was too strong to ask for comfort. The way his lips never parted from Castiel's, the two sharing breath as they kissed, and his usually confident hands fumbled in attempt to rid Castiel of his clothes, it was hard for the younger boy to miss how truly upset his boyfriend was.

Castiel went along with the actions, offering Dean peace through his response to the older boys touch. It wasn't quick and rough and desperate as it usually was; they went slow, Dean's fingers shaking as he traced the already-familiar planes of Castiel's body under his fingers, and Castiel arched and curled beneath him. They were careful to be quiet, well aware of the other members in the house, but Castiel couldn't stop the soft sounds of pleasure he muffled against the side of Dean's neck.

Sex had become a common event since Christmas Eve, but never had Dean been this tender and careful. The older boy was treating Castiel like a porcelain doll, his fingers lacing through Castiel's were they rested above his head as the two moved in silent unison, their jaws tight as they fought the urge to voice their thoughts and pleasure. Dean's eyes burned holes into Castiel's, the green rich with flecks of gold and the pupils blown wide with arousal and something a little darker.

Castiel could see himself reflected there, forehead slick with sweat and blue irises almost swallowed by pupil. His barely-there muscles flexing under his skin, his neck a pale line as he tossed his head back in attempt to fight the soft sound that managed to leak its way past his lips regardless. Dean squeezed his fingers, slotting his lips gently over Castiel's and swallowing the sounds with a content hum.

It was something beautiful, tender; making love, rather than sex.

It was a bitter-sweet feeling when it was over, Dean's forehead pressed to Castiel's shoulder as the two laid in sated exhaustion. Castiel combed his fingers thoughtfully through Dean's hair, watching the sweat-damp mass stick up in uneven spikes and smiling to himself as Dean muttered a protest against his skin. When the younger boy continued his actions, Dean retaliated with a saliva-rich slide of his tongue over Castiel's ribcage.

"Dean!" He protested, making a face as he leaned over the edge of the bed and grabbed one of the discarded items of clothing – Dean's shirt – and slid it on over his head, protecting himself.

"Oh come on," Dean chuckled- the first laugh Castiel had heard out of him. "You certainly didn't mind having other liquids on you,"

"Ah, and so you remind me why I hate laying with you after sex," Castiel rolled his eyes, passing Dean his boxers and watching as the older boy pulled the small scrap of clothing on before doing so with his own underwear.

"Hey, I'm allowed to boast," Dean chuckled, laying back against the pillows and opening his arms. Castiel settled into his usual place against Dean's side, one arm thrown over the older boys waist and his head resting over the steady pounding of his heart.

"I suppose you are," Castiel sighed, kissing Dean's collarbone gently before adding. "Are you alright, now?"

"Not really," Dean surprised Castiel with the admission. "But I'm getting there."

Castiel nodded hesitantly, pressing a bit closer to his boyfriends side and exhaling a content breath as Dean's lips brushed over his forehead.

"I'm going away for a week or two," Dean announced a moment later, his fingers tracing the line of Castiel's spine through Castiel's – _Dean's_ – shirt. "Sam will be around, though. Maybe you can take him out driving? I know it's not legal, but… There's not many cops around her to stop you,"

"Of course," Castiel muttered, his heart dropping in his chest; he hated the trips Dean disappeared on, but never had he been gone for more than two weeks… He could handle it.

"And text me if your brothers cause an issue, alright? I'll come back," Dean muttered, his voice tight with anger at the mere mention of Lucifer and Michael.

"Yes, Dean."

"And… Just text me in general, alright?"

"I always do,"

"Yeah,"

"Dean?" Castiel tilted his head back to look at the older boy and Dean arched an eyebrow. "I love you."

It wasn't the first time they'd exchanged the words, though it was the first time it had been said outside the throes of passion. Something warm glowed in Dean's eyes before a frigid glaze swept it quickly away, the older boy's momentary smile fading away to a distressed puckering of his lips.

"Yeah… I know." He replied, before closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the pillows.

Castiel choked down his disappointment and his embarrassment, his eyes staring at nothing as he rested his head against Dean's chest once more, holding tightly to the older boy in his embrace. Swallowing hard, he took a moment to close his eyes and send a silent prayer to the angel that he was named after;

_Help him get through this, whatever it is. Help _us_ get through this_.

xXxXxXxXx

**Hey, guys! Sorry this update took so long! I've been swamped with school work lately.**

**Sorry for the shitty chapter!**

**Anyways... I've giving you a definite chapter count now; there's only going to be 15 chapters, because this has become a monster of a fanfiction and there's not more I can drag out of it... Again, don't panic; there is a sequel. **

**Anyways... SEASON NINE STARTS ON TUESDAY! AH!**

**Here's an awesome Destiel video:**

** watch?v=Bf37i-RD1I**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter : 14

Dean had been gone for three weeks.

Castiel wouldn't be as nervous about the extended trip as he was had Dean been staying in contact. For the first week of the trip, the couple texted back and forth once or twice daily, but in the second week their conversations grew further and further apart until, in the third week, they were non-existent.

Castiel's heart ached every time he sent a message and received no reply; what made it worse was seeing watching Sam sitting across the room, texting Dean, unaware that his older brother was ignoring Castiel. The junior had to wonder what he could have possibly done wrong- was saying he loved Dean too much? Had he offended the older boy somehow?

Whatever he had done, he only wanted to fix it.

"Dean is coming back tonight," Sam announced from his place in the living room, long limbs looking squashed where he was tucked in the corner of the couch. Castiel was standing in the miniscule kitchen of the Winchester house, scrubbing harshly at a stained dish, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows.

"Is that so?" Castiel replied, running the now stainless plate under the faucet and setting it to dry on a nearby towel as he reached for another one of the filthy plates stacked in the sink.

"Yeah," Sam nodded, thumbs flying over the keyboard of his phone. "Says Dad's coming home with him,"

"That's good, right?" Castiel questioned, sparing Sam a look out of the corner of his eyes. The youngest Winchester boy had mixed feeling about his father; that much Castiel had been able to tell from the beginning. He never knew when Sam was pleased with Mr. Winchester, or when the two were in the middle of an extended argument.

"Yeah, I guess." Sam said after a moment of calculation, shrugging. "I'm glad neither of them is hurt this time, though."

"Yes," Castiel agreed. "Another hospital trip would not be preferable,"

Sam chuckled, nodding, before falling silent as he went back to his phone. Castiel's own cellular device sat heavy and silent in his back pocket, taunting him, and Castiel found himself scrubbing the dish in his hands with irritated force. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to treat the porcelain more gently and ignore his mixed emotions regarding Dean.

Once finished with the task of dishes, Castiel found himself without a task to complete. With a heavy sigh he shuffled to the mat beside the front door and pulled on his shoes, leaning against the arm of the couch as he laced them.

"Where you headed?" Sam said curiously as he set his phone aside to look at Castiel.

"Just on a walk," Castiel replied evenly, flashing Sam a reassuring smile as he stood and buried his hands in his pockets.

"Have fun. You're staying here tonight, right?" For the past week Castiel had been staying with Sam, sleeping in Dean's unoccupied bed because the younger Winchester had asked for company and Castiel himself had been a bit lonely. He frowned at the younger boys question, however.

"I'm not sure, Sam." He admitted.

"C'mon, Cas. Tomorrow's your birthday; we can get up and go buy cake," Sam bargained, and Castiel sighed as the younger boys hazel eyes widened fractionally, his lower lip drooping. Honestly, Castiel had forgotten that tomorrow was the first of April and the seventeen year marker of his birth.

"Fine," He answered, resolve cracked. "But no cake; I prefer milkshakes,"

"Milkshakes it is," Sam smiled, eyes twinkling as he reached for the remote, efficiently ending the conversation. Castiel smiled, snagging a random coat from the peg near the door – his well loved trench coat was at home, trapped in the washing machine – and skipping over the weak spots in the porch as he stepped into the yard.

The snow had disappeared a little over a week ago, but it was still bitterly cold, especially as near to dark as it was at the moment. Castiel zipped the coat up to his neck, recognizing the faint smell of soap and leather as Dean and smiling faintly as he hugged the cloth closer to his body. It was pitiful that he was comforted by a smell that reminded him of Dean, yet he couldn't find it in him to care.

Tucking his hands in the pockets of the coat, he was surprised to find Dean's Walkman and a pair of tangled headphones. It was a pleasant surprise, though; the device had fascinated Castiel since he'd first seen it, and he had started to enjoy the classic rock that Dean was such a big fan of.

Placing the buds in his ears, Castiel was greeted with the sound of _Aerosmith_'s _I Don't Want to Miss a Thing_; a song he had labeled as his and Dean's. He hummed softly alongside the lead singer, his walk forgotten; instead he explored the Winchester property, venturing into the small forest behind the house and following a trail of raccoon prints until they ended at the edge of a creek.

It was a wide creek, easily ten yards across, but not nearly as deep. The rocks were covered in moss and there were small signs of life littering the forest surrounding it; animal tracks and clumps of fur in the underbrush. Castiel smiled to himself, an idea coming to mind as he stepped hesitantly onto one of rocks peeking out over the water and balanced there precariously. His eyes scanned the surface, looking for another exposed rock, and he took a cautious leap when he found it. He landed gracefully atop the stone, grinning with pride at the fact that he had managed not to lose his balance.

Arms spread cautiously, he continued this pattern of hopping and balancing until he had reached the center of the creek, perching atop a rock large enough to sit down on, had he the desire. The water continued on as far as the eye could see in either direction, and Castiel thought it was quite a peaceful sight as he buried his hands in the pockets of his coat and huffed out a content cloud of breath that hovered momentarily before dissipating.

Above him the sun was only minutes away from setting, casting the forest around him in shadows, and Castiel decided it would be wiser to return to the Winchester home rather than spend the night atop a rock in the middle of the woods. Retracing his earlier path, he managed to make it back to the bank of the creek with only a minor slip up and a boot full of water.

Squelching his way back to the house, he encountered nothing outside of a shy doe who bolted upon his approach and a raccoon who seemed keen on following him all the way to the edge of the woods before shying away. Castiel bid the animal farewell, tucking the Walkman back in his pocket as he walked around the side of the house.

His eyes were on his wet boot, a scowl twisting his face, when he collided with a much larger body.

"Careful, son," John Winchester grabbed a hold of the younger boy, righting him, before Castiel could fall. The teenager blushed, avoiding making eye contact with the adult. "What're you doing out here in the cold?"

"I went on a walk," Castiel answered, glancing up to find an amused smile on the oldest Winchester's face; there was a lot of Dean's carefully mastered composure in the way John held himself, but also a lot of Sam's tender manner as well.

"Not a great idea." Mr. Winchester scolded, hands in his pockets. "There's some nasty snakes in those woods who're likely to sneak up on you when you're not paying attention,"

"Yes, sir," Castiel replied. "Sorry, sir."

"I'm not mad kid," Mr. Winchester chuckled, clapping Castiel on the shoulder as he made to pass the younger boy. "You better head inside, though; Dean's looking for you,"

Castiel perked up at the notion of seeing Dean, muttering a brief thank you before he practically ran around the building and – careful to avoid the bad spots on the porch – into the house. He expected to find Sam and Dean, but not in the manner he found them.

Sam had Dean by the throat, the younger boy pinning the older to the wall nearest to the kitchen. Dean made no move to struggle, though Sam's lower lip was bleeding and the skin around the older boys left eye was slowly swelling closed; Dean's expression lacked any emotion, completely contrary to the rage flashing deep in Sam's eyes.

"Cas, go outside." Sam growled, his expression fierce as he glanced at the stunned teenager in the doorway.

"What's going on?" He demanded weakly, looking between the two brothers; Dean's eyes were far way, looking at a place above Castiel's head. Both siblings were quiet, Sam breathing hard and Dean unnervingly calm.

"Nothing," Dean finally announced, some of the glassy quality leaking from his eyes as he glanced at Sam. "Me and Sammy just had a bit of a disagreement."

Castiel watched as the siblings stared at each other for a long time, some sort of silent conversation passing between them before Sam jerked away from Dean with a loud curse. The older boy cleared his throat, rubbing tenderly at his windpipe as his eyes followed Sam. The younger sibling paced for a moment before coming to a halt near the television, his hands clenched into fists and his jaw tight.

Dean watched Sam a moment longer before turning to Cas, his expression guarded as he crossed the room and pressed a stiff kiss of greeting to the younger boys forehead. There was something off in his movements; it wasn't flowing and graceful as it should be, rather forced and mechanical.

"You got your car keys?" He muttered softly into Castiel's hair and the younger boy nodded. "Let's go for a drive, okay?" Castiel frowned, looking up at the taller boy with a questioning expression. Dean simply shook his head, motioning Castiel to go out the door and following closely behind.

"Dean," Sam called, and both Castiel and Dean came to a stop in their motions. "I'll never forgive you."

Dean tensed, the air visibly punched from his chest as he scowled at his younger brother and motioned Castiel to leave the house with a jerk of his hand. The younger boy did as he was motioned, uncomfortable being trapped in the middle of a family dispute, and Dean slammed the door behind himself without answering Sam's words.

"Keys," Dean gruffed, and Castiel pressed the keys to his Mustang into Dean's palm without question, climbing into the passenger's seat as Dean started the car. The older boy burnt rubber getting out of the driveway, taking off down the highway at easily ninety miles per hour, his jaw ticking angrily.

Castiel knew he should be scared – Dean had quiet the temper, and driving while upset was a major danger – but the only thing he could feel was concern for his boyfriend. Cautiously, as if approaching a caged animal, Castiel laid his hand over Dean's on the steering wheel, feeling the sharp bones of the older boy's knuckles under his fingers and squeezing them soothingly.

Dean seemed to relax, if only fractionally, under the touch so Castiel didn't bother to pull his hand away as Dean drove towards God only knows where. The weather outside the car had turned nasty, thunderheads covering the moon and fat drops of rain starting to wet the windshield. Dean seemed to sense the danger of the situation and slowed to an even speed of sixty, his grip on the wheel relaxing enough that Castiel removed his hand from its place over Dean's and placed it in his lap.

"What was Sam talking about?" Castiel asked as Dean turned off onto a dirt road and put the car in park, the engine idling as the older boy leaned back in the driver's seat and combed his fingers through his hair.

"It's stupid," Dean breathed out, the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes as he spoke. "Just… So fucking stupid,"

"What do you mean?" Castiel muttered, turning in his chair to face Dean, leaning against the car door as he pulled his legs to his chest and rested his chin on his knees.

Dean was quiet a long time, frozen in his position until he slowly lowered his hands from his eyes and stared up at the roof of the car, the only sound outside of his steady breathing being the rain.

"He's mad at me for something that really doesn't concern him." Dean finally muttered, staring at nothing as he spoke.

"May I ask what?" Castiel spoke quietly, as if anything louder than a whisper would startle Dean.

"Us."

The answer was simple- a single word- yet it sent ice racing up and down Castiel's back; why would Sam have said something such as 'I'll never forgive you' regarding to their relationship? There wasn't anything wrong with their relationship outside of a communication error, and Sam had always seemed pleased that they were together. What could have possibly changed?

"Why is he upset?" Castiel muttered, reaching out to play with the hem of Dean's t-shirt. The older boy made no move to stop him.

"Because he knew I was going to break up with you as soon as I got back," Dean answered, no hesitation or emotion present in his tone. Castiel dropped the shirt as if it had suddenly caught fire, sucking in a sharp and sudden breath as if he had been physically assaulted.

"W-What?" Castiel whispered, positive his ears must be deceiving him; this must be a nightmare he would soon wake up from.

"He knew I was going to call it off," Dean repeated, turning to stare at Castiel with intense green eyes. "He knew I was going to break up with you, Castiel."

The younger boy shrank in on himself, as if clutching any tighter at his chest would hold him together; would prevent this from happening, and protect him from the realization that this was no dream. He find ran through the past seven months, of all the smiles and laughter; the way Dean would watch him when he thought Castiel wasn't looking, and the way his voice rose and fell protectively at the mention of anyone who had ever hurt Castiel. He thought of Dean's birthday, and the picture in his boyfriend's wallet; he remembered Christmas Eve and the virginity he'd so willingly given to Dean.

He thought of everything, and he could find nothing to explain this.

"Get out of the car, Dean." Castiel demanded quietly, fighting the urge to cry, his voice swollen and thick as he stepped out of the car himself and into the rain. The water didn't bother him- honestly, he didn't feel it at all. The only thing on his mind was Dean, and how wrong the words coming out of his mouth were.

The older boy did as he was told, stepping out of the car and closing the door behind himself as Castiel walked slowly around to his side of the car. The two watched each other, Dean's expression blank and Castiel's weary.

"Tell me." Castiel demanded over the sound of the rain.

"Tell you what," Dean sighed.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" Castiel snapped before taking a moment to compose himself. "Dean, this isn't you… You… You can't just… What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," Dean's eyes flashed briefly before the same numb expression settled into place once more. "This is on me, Cas. I'm just… Not interested, anymore. I dated you to get in your pant, that's all."

That – _that_ stung. Castiel's eyes watered and he was grateful that the rain hid his tears.

"So, that's it then? Mission complete, you're leaving now?" Castiel croaked, his voice trembling; he hid his hurt behind anger, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

"Pretty much," Dean nodded, burying his hands in his pockets, casually leaning against the car.

"You can't expect me to believe that all you wanted was sex from me," Castiel bit out. "If you stayed with me for four months after you finally got it!"

"You're a good lay," Dean shrugged, toeing at the muddy ground under foot. "Guess I didn't wanna give that up."

Castiel had heard enough; he knew when Dean was hiding behind his cocky attitude, and that's exactly what he was doing now. The younger boy surged forward, grabbing Dean by the front of his jacket and smashing the boys lips together hard enough that he tasted blood.

Dean responded almost immediately, his hands knotting in Castiel's wet hair and his tongue meeting the younger boys; the taste of rain mixed with Dean had Castiel's heart racing, his blood boiling. They shared desperate pants of breath, their bodies pressed close together, for almost a minute before Dean seemed to realize was he was doing.

The older boy pushed Castiel away with a sudden force, and the younger boy didn't have a minute to respond before there was a sudden throbbing in his right eye, and Dean was cradling a now sore fist.

Dean had _hit _him.

Castiel's throat swelled close, his tears mixing with the downpour as he touched his fingertips to the now tender skin around his eye and drew away to find a small dab of red; Dean's nail must have cut him. Swallowing hard, he looked down, willing away his trembling.

"I guess I'll take you home, then." Castiel choked out, wanting to be rid of his now _ex_ boyfriend as soon as possible. All he wanted to do was curl up and cry; the sooner he broke down, the sooner he could try to move on. Try to go back to the usual silent-method of existence and the lonely school life.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, his jaw clenched as he flexed his finger experimentally and moved around to the passenger's side, sliding into the car and sitting quietly as Castiel took a moment.

How could he have been stupid enough to fall in love someone outside of Anna and Gabriel? All that loved had ever done for him was give him people who left him bleeding and alone; Balthazar, Lucifer, Michael- _everyone_. Why should he have expected Dean to be any different?

Why would anyone have loved him enough to stay?

Sliding back into the car, Castiel avoided so much as glancing at Dean as he pulled out onto the highway and headed back towards the Winchester house, silent tears rolling down his cheeks, the saltwater stinging the new cut just below right eye.

"This doesn't mean you're going to ignore Sam, does it?"

"Don't talk to me." Castiel's tone was clipped, his hands tight on the wheel as he tried to focus on the road through his tears and the stormy weather.

"It's not Sam's fault." Dean continued.

"Shut. _Up_." Castiel ordered, his voice cracking as he stepped harder on the gas.

"You can't put the blame on Sammy. He didn't do anything wrong." Dean insisted, and Castiel could feel the weight of Dean's eyes on him as they barreled down the road.

"Well neither have I, but God sure as Hell thinks it's funny to punish _me_!" Castiel shouted, his voice too loud in the cab of the car, his pulse pounding in his ears as he leaned forward over the wheel. He could hardly see past the blur of tears and rain, only the occasional flash of lighting exposing the road.

"He's a kid," Dean growled. "And he doesn't deserve to lose a friend because of me."

"You should have thought of that before, you assbutt." Castiel snapped, hiccupping on a sob and wincing as the car went over a particularly violent bump.

"Assbutt? Yeah, good insult," Dean's eyes almost audibly rolled.

"Just shut the hell up, Dean! Just _shut up_!" Castiel demanded, stepping hard on the gas and sending the car flying forward faster than before. "You have no right to mock me, you insensitive bastard; that's all you've been doing for seven months, so please take a break!"

"Why? It's fun."

Castiel couldn't understand how someone so sweet and caring could morph into a monster, but he had no response to Dean's words this time; rather he couldn't fight the sobs breaking their way past his defenses. The road blurred, the humiliation and pain curling in his gut, and he barely had time to register the stop sign before he was roaring past it.

There was suddenly a great amount of light and sound and pain- and then a slowly approaching darkness.

When Castiel took a driver's training class, he had watched an impact video from the inside of a car. He had seen the way the dummies were jerked under the impact, and the way the metal folded in around them. He could remember sitting in class thinking how terribly claustrophobic the experience would be; thinking about how many people died from such a simple thing as a collision.

Never had he thought he would experience it; never did he think he'd be one of the crosses on the side of the high way- and never did he think that hearing Dean Winchester call out his name would lull him to sleep.

**XxXxXxX**

**Please don't hate me?**


	15. Epilogue

Epilogue 

Dean never intended to fall in love.

The idea of dating Castiel had been something simple at first, just a small town fling to occupy his time before he was forced to move yet again. Then, a little over a month into things, it had slammed him; this funny feeling in his stomach that had him grinning and cringing all at once. He never truly understood it – didn't want to understand it – until the night he almost shot his brother, and walked out of the hospital room to see Castiel standing alongside his small family, a mess of tears and trembling worry.

It was love – he loved Castiel Novak, as much as he hated it.

So when his father approached him in early March and told him they'd be moving come April and that Dean had to get rid of Castiel, Dean handled the situation the only way he knew how; he started to back away. He did his damndest to sever whatever weird ass bond the two shared, silently loathing the way Castiel's eyes would glitter curiously every time Dean flinched away from his touch and he would tilt his head in that unconscious way that he did when he was thinking hard about something.

When his dad offered to let Dean go on a hunt, Dean jumped at the chance to get away and slowly cut off all communication with Castiel. It was for the better, he told himself; he would be keeping Castiel safe from the world of demons and monsters, as well as making the future heartbreak less severe.

When he got home, Sam almost killed him.

The younger boy was like an avenging spirit, slamming Dean to the wall and holding him by his throat; Dean didn't even bother to struggle.

"Don't do this to him, Dean." He growled, and Dean had had to look away from the pleading depths of his brothers eyes. "Don't do this to yourself."

"I have to, Sam." He had tricked himself into believing it, but Sam had known better.

"You're old enough to live on your own, Dean! Dammit, you finally found something good and you're going to throw it away just because Dad said to?"

Dean wasn't sure what he could have said, but at that exact moment Castiel had come bursting in the door with all the excitement of a toddler on Christmas morning and Sam had dropped the subject, letting Dean go but promising never to forgive him as Dean led Castiel out the door.

Little did he know that Dean would never forgive himself.

He'd intended to make the break up as painful as possible- to make Castiel hate him; he had succeeded, he was sure of it. Castiel wouldn't even look at him as they sped down the highway, and for that Dean was glad; the last thing he wanted was for Castiel to realize his voice was only gruff because he was crying.

And then it had happened; it was all sounds, lights, and a startled scream to his left that had Dean calling out for Castiel before things went dark.

He didn't remember much after that; next he knew he was staring up at Sam's panicked face.

"Dean?" His little brother questioned and Dean winced at the almost bone-breaking grip Sam had on his arm.

"Sammy, yr'hurting m' arm," He slurred, closing his eyes; waves of pain were washing over him in time with his heartbeat and his head was throbbing worse than it did after a nasty night of liquor and pool.

"Shit, you scared me," Sam breathed out, his voice relieved, and Dean opened his eyes just in time to watch relief morph into a class five bitch face, Sam squeezing his arm hard and vicious before releasing it. "I don't care about your arm, you dick! I hope they run out of pain meds, and you have to suffer through this without them!"

"What're you t'lkin bout?" Dean struggled to sit up, wincing as he felt a heavy weight on his leg; this was the second time this year that this leg had been in a cast.

"Cas, you idiot! Cas!" Sam shouted, and Dean flinched away from the noise before remembering where he was and what was going on.

Cas. Castiel. The wreck. The breakup.

Fuck.

"'S he okay?" Dean demanded, rotating his jaw in attempt to clear his speech, wincing as it gave a painful pop. He looked to Sam for an answer but the younger boy was only staring at him with a look of utter disgust.

"Why'd you let him drive, Dean?" Sam demanded.

"Sammy, is he okay?" Dean demanded again, a monitor somewhere else in the room picking up his heightened heart rate as his mind ran through all the possible outcomes of the situation.

"You broke his heart and then made him drive you home," Sam continued unhindered. "You know, that's a new level of douchey, even for you, and-"

"Dammit, Sam! Tell me if he's okay!" Dean bellowed, cutting his sibling off; he felt bad enough as it was, and he would let Sam lecture him later- he just needed to know Castiel was alright. Sam stared at him with an expression of mixed shock and anger and Dean sagged under the weight of the gaze, hating himself for letting his brother and the man he loved down as he looked at his lap.

"Please, Sam… Just… Tell me he's okay," He whispered.

"He's in a coma, Dean."

And with that, Sam left.

Dean sat in stunned silence, almost positive the entirety of the hospital could hear him as he slowly fell apart.

He's in a _coma_.

He's. In. A. _Coma._

Swallowing hard, Dean slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and winced as pain traveled up his spine like the white hot lick of flames. Tearing the wires and patches off his skin, he managed to maneuver himself onto the crutches and out of the room before the nurses could come running. Each movement hurt, but Dean didn't care; he was staring at Sam where his younger brother was standing outside a room at the end of the hall, his expression somber. He didn't notice Dean until his brother was practically on top of him.

"Why are you out of bed, Dean?" Sam demanded, hands fluttering uselessly as his brother cringed in pain and leaned heavily against the wall for support.

"Where's Cas?" Dean panted, sweat heavy on his brow as he tried to hide as much of the pain from his baby brother as he could.

"Dean, you need to lay down," Sam tried to reason but Dean shook his head- he wouldn't have it.

"Sam, I need to see him. Please." He gruffed, eyes boring holes into Sam. Sam searched his face for a moment, his expression guarded, before he nodded and crossed the hall to a small room and disappeared inside. Dean leaned heavily against the wall, vision swimming unhealthily as Sam stepped back outside and motioned him forward.

Dean hopped forward on the crutches, accepting Sam's help into the room, and nearly choked at the scene before him. Anna was perched carefully on the edge of the bed, smoothing her hand repetitively over Castiel's arm and Gabriel stood stoically near the window, his expression distant. And there… There was Castiel.

The boy would have looked peaceful, if it weren't for the wires and tubes and the white-cotton bandage encircling his head and trapping his black locks beneath them. Dean's heart sunk to the bottom of his chest as Sam helped him to a chair near Cas' bedside and lowered him into it. Neither Anna nor Gabriel looked up or acknowledged Dean's presence but Dean didn't need them to.

He stared at Castiel's sleeping face, wondering what was going on behind the boys eyelids; wondering if all the terrible things he'd said before the accident were the last things he'd ever get the chance to say.

Taking Castiel's limp hand in his own, he held the younger boys fingers against his lips and, for the first time in his life, Dean prayed.

**xXxXxXx**

**That's it, guys. It's done; Winchester Winter is now ****_complete_****.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this and just... Ugh! I love you all. This fiction is my baby... 46,000 words and it's finally done. **

**Sorry to leave you all hanging- the sequel (yet to be named) will be out very soon!**

**-CCW**


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